


Luck of the Draw

by kikkimax



Category: Law & Order: SVU, Oz (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Language, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 09:46:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 23
Words: 78,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17363690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikkimax/pseuds/kikkimax
Summary: The FBI requests Detective Elliot Stabler for a dangerous deep cover assignment at Oswalt Correctional Facility but the operation results in surprisingly personal revelations for everyone involved.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This crossover is nearly a decade old and takes place in the third or fourth season of SVU and after Chris and Ryan's deadly little partnership in Oz. Unfortunately the continuing cannon of SVU after the story was written has resulted in it becoming slightly AU in certain small details (especially in respect to Elliot's birthday and butterfly tattoo). So take it with a grain of salt. If Oz cannon didn't offend you, you should be fine with the level of violence, language, sexual situations, etc. If you only watched SVU and never Oz... Uh, good luck! ;P

With equal parts laughter and victory and tears of bitter defeat, controlled chaos swept  
the courtroom after the last thud of the gavel.  In a quiet fit of pique Detective Stabler  
plucked the badge displayed on his front pocket and folded it into its leather case as he  
rose numbly to his feet.  The urge to fling it across the room and walk away was strong,  
but he knew from experience the feeling would pass.  Eventually.  He’d done the best he  
could but it hadn’t been good enough this time and there would be no appeals for the  
victim.  There never were.

“I can’t believe they let the bastard walk,” Olivia Benson swore beside him, shaking with  
the force of her indignation.  “It’s not your fault, Elliot,” she added guiltily.  “The whole  
thing was a travesty and the way the judge let them twist your testimony was  
reprehensible.  She’ll burn for this one if there’s any justice at all.”

“There’s not,” Elliot muttered.  “Let’s get out of here.” He led the way past the  
defendant’s jubilant extended family, outwardly ignoring the personal taunts hurled at  
him by the youngest brother.  As gratifying as it might be to pound the preppy little twerp  
into the ground, he knew it would be costly in the long run. 

It was harder to disregard the accusing stares of the other family.  Their faces exposed  
pain that wouldn’t go away, not until the wrongs committed against their dead daughter,  
sister, mother, and wife were righted.  And obviously, that was never gonna happen.  The  
law had turned a blind eye to their plight and Elliot suspected more blood would unite  
these two families sooner rather than later.  And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do  
about that either. 

He kept his expression blank and his eyes straight ahead as they joined the bottleneck of  
people swarming out the packed courtroom’s doors.  Feeling physically ill with disgust at  
the defendant, the judge, the jury, and most of all at himself, he clamped his jaw tight.   
For a brief, panic-filled moment spewing his lunch on the lady in the bright pink pantsuit  
in front of him seemed like more than a remote possibility.  His gut relaxed a little as he  
finally cleared the crush of bodies and all but bolted down the hall for the nearest exit,  
barely aware of Olivia meeting him stride for determined stride. 

Without warning his flight was interrupted as he was thrown solidly against the nearest  
wall.  “What the fuck are you doing here?” a well-dressed stranger demanded furiously,  
grabbing him by the shoulders.  “How the hell did you get out of Oz?”

Olivia responded immediately, coming to her partner’s defense by attempting to shove  
the attacker away.  “Let him go!”

“Liv,” Elliot warned as he unexpectedly yanked the surprised man forward by his  
expensive lapels, catching him in his own trap.  His face a portrait of cold fury, Elliot  
never blinked as they glared at each other eye to eye.

Alerted by the scuffle a uniformed court officer pushed his way through the gathering  
crowd of gawkers.  “What’s the problem?” he inquired with his hand hovering over his  
weapon.

“This jerk assaulted my partner,” Olivia reported angrily.

“FBI,” the man declared as he released Elliot, who grudgingly relinquished his hold as  
well.  With the exaggerated caution of a man not wanting to get his head blown off, the  
assailant stepped back and reached into the inner pocket of his suit for his shield.  “This  
man is an escaped felon…”

“What?” Elliot barked out a stunned laugh.

“This man,” Olivia corrected acidly, “Is a highly regarded detective with the NYPD.”

“A cop?  No,” the man denied as he studied Elliot again.  “No freakin’ way.”

Elliot huffed and straightened his jacket.  “It’s okay,” he told the bailiff as he opened his  
wallet to his police identification and handed it to the alleged federal agent. “No blood,  
no foul.” 

The officer gave them another once over then did what he could to break up the 

onlookers before heading back to his post.

“Satisfied?” Olivia asked, still seething as the bewildered Fed continued to gape at  
Elliot’s ID.

“This is impossible,” the agent stammered, shaking his head.  “The resemblance is  
uncanny.”

“Honest mistake,” Elliot shrugged as he abruptly reclaimed his wallet and stuffed it back  
into his pocket.  “Let’s get out of here,” he repeated to Olivia, ushering her down the hall.

“Don’t you at least want to get his name?” she balked for a second with one last glower  
over her shoulder before she acquiesced.

“What for?  It’s not like I never threw anyone against a wall.”

Olivia snorted her agreement.  “Yeah, but you’re not usually so forgiving.  I’m surprised  
after what happened in court you didn’t take his head off.  I know I wanted to.”

“I noticed.  Honestly, the mood I’m in right now if I had come out swinging I’m not so  
sure I could’ve stopped,” Elliot admitted.  They traveled the last few yards in somber  
silence, the unjust verdict once again hitting home as the noise of the media circus  
outside grew louder.

“What a crappy day,” Olivia sighed as they stepped out into the bright sunshine.

The FBI agent watched them go, his mouth still hanging open.

***

_Gemini, the sign of the Twins, is dual-natured, elusive, complex and_  
_contradictory. On the one hand it produces the virtue of versatility, and on the_  
_other the vices of two-facedness and flightiness. The sign is linked with Mercury,_  
_the planet of childhood and youth, and its subjects tend to have the graces and_  
_faults of the young. When they are good, they are very attractive; when they are_  
_bad they are more the worse for being the charmers they are._  
_\---Augustus Hill_

  
Chris Keller carelessly folded the last tee-shirt and dropped it on top of the rest of the  
clothes in the small wire basket.  As much as he hated doing laundry it gave him a handy  
excuse to stay away from his new roommate who, except for meals, hardly ever left their  
pod for obvious reasons.  It wasn’t just an ugly rumor that rapists and pedophiles didn’t  
fare so good in prison.  The little shit had a virtual bull’s eye painted on his ass and he  
damned well knew it.

Sort of the way Chris knew without looking that Tobias Beecher was still eye-fucking him  
from his spot in the common room at the one table that had an unobstructed view of the  
laundry facilities.  Casually he glanced over his shoulder to confirm his suspicions,  
returning the smoldering stare in spades.  Just another day in the never-ending game of  
cat and mouse, except you never really knew who played which role until one of them  
got caught. 

“Why don’t you two just fuck and make up already?” Ryan O’Reily suggested  
acerbically from his perch on top of one of the washers.

“All in good time, O’Reily,” Chris assured with a leer.  “Beecher likes to be pursued.  I  
like the chase.  This shit’s just foreplay to us.”

“Sick fuckers,” Ryan lamented.

Chris mischievously bounced a wadded up piece of paper off O’Reily’s head then  
gathered his basket and swaggered out of the room in his usual slow-motion strut.  He  
took a convoluted route to the stairs which happened to take him directly by his former  
podmate’s table.

“How’s your girlfriend the pedophile?” Beecher taunted as Chris approached.

“Fuck you, Beech,” Chris drawled lazily, barely slowing down, “You’re just jealous.”

“Yeah, right.” Toby scoffed.

Chris stopped and leaned in close, whispering huskily into Beecher’s ear.  “Don’t worry,  
baby, I’m saving myself for you.”

Beecher flinched and pulled away, pretending not to be affected by the hot breath of the  
man he hated to love, fooling no one, not even himself.  “Bitch,” he muttered as Keller  
laughed and strolled away. 

Not doubting for a minute that Beecher’s eyes never strayed from his back, or at least his  
backside, Chris worked it all the way up the stairs and along the walkway to his pod.   
When he reached his door he dropped the act when he realized his roommate was  
sprawled across the lower bunk.

“Hey, asshole, get off my bed,” he warned dangerously, tossing his basket of clothes  
aside. 

The asshole in question moaned pitifully between wheezy breaths and tried to reach out  
to him with a bloody hand.

“Ah, crap,” Keller swore before exiting the pod to lean over the rail.  “Hey Murphy,” he  
called to the head hack.  “Somebody airholed the baby-raper.  Hurry, he’s bleedin’ all  
over my stuff.”  After the announcement he slipped back inside to see if he could salvage  
at least his pillow, but it was already covered in blood.

Em City exploded into activity as the alarm sounded and every available hack hit the  
cellblock yelling ‘lockdown’.  Inmates scrambled toward their pods before the SORT  
team could arrive but hung around outside until the last possible second in the hopes of  
seeing something good.  Jeers and cheers and chants of ‘baby raper’ bounced around the  
glassed in walls.

Chris put his hands up and backed out of the way as the newest hack rushed into the tiny  
room, Murphy right on his heels.

“What happened?” Murphy asked, a little out of breath as he squatted beside the bunk by  
the victim’s head.  

“I didn’t see nothin’,” Chris stated immediately.  “I was doin’ my laundry and when I got  
back I found the little prick this way.  It’s fresh though, he can’t bleed like that for long.”

The wounded man gurgled in panic and Murphy gave Chris a dirty look for the cold  
assessment but couldn’t disagree.  “Hang on, Fletcher,” he muttered anyway.  “You’ll be  
fine.”

The other hack seized the closest thing he could find, which happened to be one of  
Chris’s freshly laundered tee-shirts, and clamped it over the hole in Fletcher’s throat.

“Hey,” Chris protested.  “I just washed that.”

“Keller, wait outside,” Murphy ordered as the guard added another shirt to the first one  
which was already beginning to soak through, completely ignoring the complaint. 

“Hey!” Chris repeated even louder.  He reacted without thinking and punched the  
kneeling man in the back of head, knocking him into Murphy and taking them both down  
like dominos.  On cue two more hacks flew through the door to grab him, forcing him out  
of the pod and onto the landing.  In typical Keller fashion he kicked and screamed every  
step of the way as even more guards jumped in to subdue him. 

Pandemonium exploded as the now locked up prisoners stomped and yelled and beat on  
their cell doors in a frenzy of excitement, undeterred as the SORT team finally arrived  
and took up defensive positions.  Somehow four hacks managed to get Keller’s writhing  
body down the stairs without killing anyone in the process.  The medical team arrived  
through the gate as Chris was dragged out of it, still fighting with every fiber of his being.   
     
“Chris, calm down,” Toby pleaded from inside his pod, his fingers splayed across the  
front glass helplessly.  “Please don’t hurt him,” he begged quietly, resting his forehead on  
the door as the struggling form finally passed out of sight and the uproar of the inmates  
slowly began to wind down. 

***


	2. part 2

Two weeks later

As soon as they entered the squadroom Stabler took off his jacket and draped it over the  
back of his chair.  By the time he began the ritual rolling up of his sleeves Olivia was  
already glancing around for the captain, certain he would want an update on the current  
case since they’d been gone half the morning.  She spotted Cragen through the open  
blinds of his office along with two men in dark suits.  One of them turned and looked  
directly at her. 

“Elliot,” she said softly.  “That guy look familiar?”

Pausing as he minutely loosened his tie Elliot narrowed his gaze.  “Yeah, didn’t we bump  
into him at the courthouse after the Wellington trial?”

“Only you would call it a bump,” Olivia smirked.  “I wonder what he wants now.”

“Let’s find out,” Elliot suggested as he picked up the file he’d dumped on his desk and  
moved toward Cragen’s office.  He tapped on the door and opened it without waiting for  
an invitation.  “Jared Bethea is dead,” he announced as he candidly assessed the captain’s  
visitors.  “Probably retaliation for the drive-by that took out Albert Wellington last  
week.”

“You got a perp?” Cragen asked in spite of the audience.

“Wellington’s teenaged brother looks good for it,” Olivia supplied, arriving at Elliot’s  
elbow.  “Coincidently he was picked up a couple hours ago for suspicion on a B and E at  
a neighbor’s apartment last night.  They’re holding him at the three-six.”

“Yuppie run amok,” Elliot quipped.  “One of the items stolen was an unregistered 38 that  
might be our weapon.  We’ll know for sure when the ballistics report comes back.” 

“Okay,” Cragen responded thoughtfully.  “Olivia, take Munch and get down there to  
interview the kid.”

“What about me?” Elliot inquired coolly as he handed Olivia the folder.

“Come in and shut the door.”

The partners traded wary glances then Olivia nodded and reluctantly backed out while  
Elliot did as he was told.  He sauntered around the desk and positioned himself behind  
and to the right of his boss, facing the men he would have known to be Feds from their  
attitudes alone.  Leaning almost casually against the bookshelf he raised an inquiring  
eyebrow.  “So what can I do for the FBI?”

“Gentlemen, as you already know, this is Detective Stabler,” Cragen introduced him to  
the men staring holes in him.  “Elliot this is Special Agent Fuller…” Elliot nodded to the  
senior agent then turned his most intimidating scowl on the other man. “…and this is  
Special Agent Taylor.”

“We’ve met.” Elliot smiled without a trace of warmth, but Taylor’s return grin was  
almost giddy.

“That’s why we’re here,” Fuller confirmed. 

“I never laid a hand on him,” Elliot stated calmly.  “If I had, I doubt he’d be here now to  
complain about it.”

“Elliot.”

“It’s quite all right, Captain.  In fact we would like to take this opportunity to officially  
apologize for the unfortunate incident.  And we certainly appreciate your understanding  
on the matter, Detective Stabler,” Fuller said smoothly then turned expectantly to Taylor.

With a roll of his eyes Taylor launched into an obviously rehearsed statement.  “It was  
wrong of me to physically assault you.  Thank you for not pressing charges.”

“Whatever.  But I’m sure you didn’t just come here for damage control,” Elliot accused  
as he crossed his arms over his chest.  “Why don’t you save us all some time and cut to  
the chase?”

“We want you for an undercover op,” Fuller volunteered earnestly.  “We need your  
help.”

“Because I look like some escaped felon,” Elliot surmised, shifting his focus from Fuller  
to Taylor and back.

“Not escaped, it turns out.  Keller’s still in the pen right where he belongs, but when I  
saw you it caught me off guard.  I honest to God thought you were him,” Taylor  
explained, sounding excited again.  “Like I said, the resemblance is uncanny.”

“That doesn’t mean I can pass for him.  Anybody who knows the guy would figure out I  
was an imposter pretty quick.”

“Ordinarily I’d say you were right about that,” Taylor conceded.  “But you are nothing  
short of a dead ringer, way too close to be a fluke.  So I checked it out.”

“Meaning you checked me out,” Elliot growled unhappily.

“Does that worry you, Detective?” Taylor goaded.

Elliot shrugged impassively.  “I got nothin’ to hide.”

“Why don’t you sit down, Elliot,” Cragen said, looking uncomfortable as he got up and  
offered his seat to the detective.

Elliot seemed taken aback by the offer, like his internal alarms had suddenly gone off and  
looked for a moment as if he might actually refuse.  Finally he took a deep breath and  
settled into the captain’s chair.  “Nice,” he commented as he made a show of bouncing a  
few times to test the cushion.

Cragen allowed a self-depreciating smile but still wore the look of someone who was  
about to break some really bad news.  He sank a hip down onto the corner of his desk and  
made a ‘get on with it’ gesture to Taylor.

“You’ve got twins.” Taylor stated as he abandoned his seat to present his case,  
reminiscent of a prosecutor stalking a courtroom.

“Uh huh.”

“Identical?”

“Fraternal; a boy and a girl.  But you already know that if you did your job.”

“Twins run in families, or so I’m told.”

“Look, if you think I’ve got a long lost twin out there somewhere you’re mistaken.  I’m  
the third of six children,” Elliot explained as he saw where the conversation was headed.   
“I guarantee my mother didn’t accidentally lose count and misplace a kid.”

Taylor smiled as he stopped his idle pacing and planted his hands on the desk to lean into  
Elliot’s personal space.  “I know your story, Detective.  Probably better than you do.”

Elliot didn’t flinch and didn’t rise to the bait so after a moment Taylor backed down and  
resumed his wandering.

“Early June nineteen sixty-one the budding Stabler family took a little vacation upstate to  
see the falls.  A good time was had by all until the seven-month pregnant Helen  
unexpectedly went into labor…”

“Heard it,” Elliot interrupted dryly, rocking back in the chair and wearing his patented  
‘you’re boring me’ interrogation face.

“I’m sure you have, but it’s good.  Let me tell it,” Taylor insisted cheerfully.  “Robert  
Stabler, being the practical man that he was, drove back to the city to take the two mini-  
Stablers to Helen’s mother while poor Helen suffered through twelve hours of hard labor  
all alone.  Sadly, by the time her husband returned Helen had already delivered a stillborn  
baby girl.”

“That’s not true,” Elliot denied instantly, sitting upright in the chair.

“These are certified copies of the birth certificate and the death certificate,” Fuller said  
gently as he passed two pieces of paper from his briefcase across the desk.  “They named  
her Hope.”

Elliot quickly read the documents once, then more carefully the second and third times  
before returning his stunned gaze to Taylor as he picked the story up right where he’d left  
off.

“Strangely enough the couple arrived home less than a week later with a male infant  
which they presented as their son, Elliot.  No one ever questioned it.  Why would they?   
Helen left pregnant, she came back with a baby.  And the story fit perfectly since you  
were such a little fellow; after all you were supposed to be a preemie.  I found out twins  
are notoriously small.  Did you know that?  Of course you did.  What were yours?  Five  
pounds apiece?  Six, tops.”

“Yeah, very interesting, but circumstantial at best,” Cragen noted irritably as Elliot ran a  
shaky hand over his face.

Fuller produced another paper which Elliot waved away as he studied the desktop  
intensely.  “Since Keller wasn’t given up by his birthmother his birth certificate hasn’t  
been altered as Detective Stabler’s was when he was adopted,” Fuller said as he handed  
the document to Cragen instead.  “As you can see Keller’s still shows a multiple birth.   
I’d call that pretty damning evidence.”

“Especially since these two identical strangers were born on the same day in the same  
hospital,” Taylor continued either not knowing or simply not caring what effect his words  
were having on the man whose life he was dissecting.  “I gotta admit I put in some  
overtime on this one, but once I discovered that, the rest was easy.  All I had to do was  
compare the mothers’ medical records.  I’m sure what I found will erase any further  
doubts.”  Taylor smiled and paused dramatically.

“Finish this or I walk,” Elliot said in a rough voice without looking up.

Taylor sighed, realizing his oratorical skills were not being fully appreciated.  “After they  
took away her dead baby Helen was put into a semi-private room with a young unwed  
mother who had just given birth to twin boys.  Her name was Alice Keller, by the way.   
The women roomed together for three days and when they were discharged from the  
hospital, each left with one baby.  Those are just the facts; the details of the arrangement  
aren’t in the medical records but we can speculate.  One mother grieving over her loss,  
another frightened at the looming nightmare of caring for two infants alone, with no  
money.  All in all, I’d say they came up with a win-win solution.”

“So you see, Detective,” Fuller summarized, “You can pass for Keller.  Taylor knows  
him very well and if you fooled him, you could fool your own mother.”

“Which one?” Elliot spat out sarcastically as he stood up, “Helen or Alice?”  He turned  
his back on them and moved over to the window to stare into the empty interview room.

 “Why don’t you give him a minute,” Cragen suggested as he attempted to show his  
guests out.

“Yeah, well, we’d like to.  Unfortunately the reality is we’ve got a bit of a time crunch  
here,” Taylor argued, not budging from his spot next to the desk.

“Get out,” Cragen insisted as he opened the door.

“I’m sorry it had to go down this way,” Fuller offered sincerely as he gathered his papers  
and got up.  “I know we pulled the rug out from under you, Detective, but we really do  
need to know something soon.”

“I’ll do it,” Elliot blurted out without turning around to face them.

“You don’t even know what it is yet,” Fuller cautioned.  “You might not be so eager after  
you hear the details.”

“I said I’ll do it.”

“Elliot, they want to insert you into the Oswald State Correctional Facility,” Cragen  
protested as he shut the door a little harder than was strictly necessary.  “As a prisoner.”

“You’re sure we’re identical?” Elliot asked, pivoting enough to look at Taylor. 

“Physically if not psychologically,” Taylor nodded enthusiastically.  “I mean Keller is a  
brutal serial rapist and murderer.”

“God,” Elliot breathed.  He closed his eyes and pressed the heel of his hand to his  
forehead for a minute as he struggled with that morsel of information.

“That’s no reflection on you,” Taylor offered completely sympathetic if a little late.  “We  
don’t know why your twin turned into a killer and you didn’t.  Maybe nurture is stronger  
than nature.  Or maybe you do have it in you to be a sociopath but it never got switched  
on.  Who knows?”

“Keller’s crime was felony murder during the commission of an armed robbery.  He has  
never been convicted of rape,” Fuller retorted, trying to salvage the situation.

“Yet,” Taylor insisted obstinately.  “It’s only a matter of time.”

Elliot’s jaw tightened as he opened his eyes.  “When do I meet him?” he asked,  
dismissing Taylor completely as he turned to Fuller.  He swallowed before he could get  
the next words out.  “My brother?”

“Meet?” Fuller questioned as he sat back down.  “No, that’s not part of the plan.”

“Keller, that’s his name, right?”

“Christopher Keller, yeah, but you don’t need to meet him for this.  There’s no time.”

“How can I pull this off if I don’t at least interview him?  Just because we look alike  
doesn’t mean we’re act alike or talk alike.”

“Don’t kid yourself, Stabler, you’re not gonna get some happy little family reunion here,”  
Taylor objected.  “Keller’s the worst of the worst.  You’ll be nothing but another mark to  
him.”

“That’s enough, Taylor” Fuller interrupted the tirade.  “I believe you have an  
appointment to keep.” 

The two agents glared at each other for a full minute before Fuller nodded pointedly  
toward the door.  Taylor spared Elliot a disgusted look then grumbled something  
unintelligible under his breath as he left in a huff.

“Tell me what you want me to do,” Elliot requested.

“I’m sorry Captain Cragen, the details of this operation are ‘need to know’,” Fuller said  
apologetically, still smooth as silk.  “If you don’t mind…”

With one last look at Elliot, Cragen followed in the pissed off agent’s wake and quietly  
this time, closed the door behind him.

“If you go through with this or not, what I’m about to tell you can’t leave this office,”  
Fuller stated as he finally dropped the diplomatic veneer and got down to business.   
“Taylor doesn’t even know this much.  He’s got his own agenda.”

“Which is?”

“We’ll get into that later.  Right now I need your promise.”

“All right,” Elliot agreed as he returned to Cragen’s chair without a second thought.   
“You have my word.”

Fuller scooted his own chair around the side of the desk and drew Elliot in with a gesture.   
Paranoia was evident in his posture as he clung to his briefcase and began to speak in a  
low tone.  “I have an informant in Oz who’s been collecting evidence on a certain well  
known Mafioso for the last eighteen months.  However several attempts on his life in the  
last few weeks have lead us to believe he’s been found out.  They currently have him  
tucked safely away in protective custody.

“But now every time I try to send someone in to retrieve the information something goes  
horribly wrong.  It can’t be coincidence; not for the last six attempts at contact.  Even the  
last deep cover agent I sent in as a prisoner was killed within hours of his arrival.  I’ve  
come to the conclusion that someone on the inside is working against me.  That’s the  
only reasonable conclusion and frankly, I don’t know how high this thing goes.”

“So how is getting me killed gonna help?” Elliot couldn’t help but ask.

“No, that’s the beauty part of this setup.  Keller is a known entity.  Sure he has his own  
problems but messing with the Mob isn’t one of them.  He’s beyond suspicion for  
intelligence work for the FBI, thanks in part to Taylor’s crusade against him.”

“Which we’ll get into later.”

“Yes.”

Elliot rubbed his eyes tiredly.  “So what’s the plan?”

“We’ll extract Keller tonight and let the prison grapevine circulate the rumor he was  
taken by the FBI for interrogation, which will be mostly true.  Then we put you in  
tomorrow with a cover story about a mild head injury with some memory loss.  That  
should explain any slip up you might make.”

“How are you going to explain the head injury?”

“Dangerous criminal, accidents happen.”

At Elliot’s dubious expression Fuller hastened to add, “You’ll only be in Em City for a  
day, hopefully less than that.  As soon as you make contact you’ll fake a seizure or pass  
out or something and they’ll send you to the infirmary where we’ll step in and pull you  
out to make the switch again.”

“Em City?”

“Yeah, Emerald City, that’s the experimental cellblock where Keller is housed.  It’s also  
where my informant will be transferred from protective custody the day after tomorrow.   
That’s why we’re running out of time.  There’s a strong Mafia presence in Em City and  
we don’t think he’ll last very long if his cover really has been blown.”

“So why not stop the transfer?”

“I have no authority to do so and even if I did, if I step in now I risk tipping off whoever  
is working against me.  Besides if he stays in solitary we’ll never get the information.”

“So you don’t really give a damn about your informant.”

“You won’t either after you’ve read his file.  But he’s nothing compared to the scum I’m  
trying to bring down.”

“This sounds personal,” Elliot mused.

“Isn’t it always?” Fuller asked candidly.  “In law enforcement we all eventually develop  
our own private demon; that one case that won’t let us go.  This one is mine.  Taylor’s is  
Keller.  That’s what he wants out of this; for you to collect incriminating information on  
Keller while you’re in his skin.”

“He wants me to rat out my brother.”

“Listen, Taylor came to me with this cockamamie idea at a time when I was rapidly  
running out of options.  I owe him.  You don’t.  As far as I’m concerned you can do  
whatever your conscience tells you to do about Keller.  Just know going in that your  
brother is far from innocent.”

“I got that, thanks,” Elliot said with a sigh.  “That’s why I need to see him.  To find out if  
he’s really as bad as Taylor thinks he is.”

“I have files here with everything you need to know.  You don’t have to put yourself  
through that.”

“Sorry.  That’s the deal breaker.  I have a face to face with Keller or I don’t go in at all.”

“Okay,” Fuller gave in a little too easily.  He opened his briefcase and pulled out a  
handful of folders which he deposited on the desk as he stood.  “Go home and study  
these.  They contain everything you’ll need to know.  I’ll send a car for you in the  
morning.”

“Not to my house,” Elliot objected as he rose to his feet as well.  “Have them pick me up  
here at the station; I have a few cases I need to clear with my partner.”

“No problem.  Get some sleep,” Fuller advised as he shook Elliot’s hand.  “You’re gonna  
need it.” 

As soon as Fuller was gone Elliot opened the first folder and gaped at the photo on top.   
Any lingering doubts of Taylor’s fairy tale were swiftly swept away. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Cragen said reasonably, standing in the doorway.

“Yeah I do.  But not for them.”

Cragen nodded as he closed the door.  “They told me you might have a twin but until  
Fuller pulled out those documents I don’t know that I really believed them.  I’m sorry I  
didn’t give you some kind of heads up going in.”

“There’s no way you could have prepared me for this,” Elliot said, sliding the black and  
white picture Cragen’s way.

“Holy cow,” Cragen exclaimed.  His eyes went wide as he examined the very familiar  
face made only slightly less recognizable by the cocky grin.  The wife-beater undershirt  
revealed a muscular bicep with a stylized crucifix.  “Right down to the tattoo.”

“You know, you hear stories about twins separated at birth who drive the same kind of  
car and name their kids the same names and buy the same kind of toilet paper…” Elliot  
trailed off as he looked away.

“But you never expect it to happen to you,” Cragen finished for him as he rounded the  
desk to open the bottom drawer and pull out the forbidden bottle kept hidden there.   
“Forgive me for saying so Elliot, but you don’t really seem all that surprised.”

Elliot laughed bitterly as he picked up a handy coffee mug and held it out.  “When you  
look at the old family portraits you know what you see?  You see a lot of people with soft  
Irish faces and then this,” he pointed to his own prominent features. 

Cragen wordlessly opened the bottle and poured two fingers into the cup.

“I was the difficult child, the inflexible one.  Always odd-man-out in any family  
squabbles.  And nothing I ever did was good enough for my old man,” Elliot sighed and  
took a deep drink which made his eyes water suspiciously.  “I don’t know how I missed  
the signs all these years.”

“You were loved,” Cragen pointed out.

“I was given away.”


	3. part 3

“Well that’s four hours of my life I’ll never get back,” Munch complained as he and  
Olivia came through the doors and headed for their respective desks.

“Get a confession?” Fin asked, looking up from the report he was typing.

“Hardly.  The kid lawyered up so fast I’d swear he had the guy on retainer.  Come to  
think of it, having a rapist for a big brother, he probably did,” Olivia said as she took a  
seat.  “It’s not gonna matter, though.  The stolen gun is a match for the murder weapon  
and his prints are all over it.  And now we’ve even got an unbiased witness who saw the  
whole thing.”

Fin raised an interested eyebrow.  “Unbiased.  Meaning not a Bethea this time?”

“Meaning the little punk is going to have his dance card full at Rikers,” Munch  
elaborated.

“Sweet.”

“Fin?  Where’s Elliot?” Olivia asked worriedly.

“The captain took him home,” Fin replied, leaning closer as he lowered his voice.  “After  
he gave him a couple belts outta that bottle nobody’s supposed ta know about.  I’m not  
sure but I think Stabler gave up his gun and badge.”

“Why?” Olivia gasped. “What happened?”

“Don’t know.  They was both upset.”

“Were they angry?” Olivia pressed.

“Nah, not mad, just… I don’t know exactly.  It looked like Stabler was in shock or  
something.  The door was open for a second when I first came in before Cragen slammed  
it while he was hollering about Oz.”

“As in: ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’?” Munch asked in jest.

“As in the big house,” Fin corrected with an aggravated scowl at his partner’s sometimes  
bizarre sense of humor.

Olivia frowned as she picked up the phone and dialed Elliot’s cell.  When he didn’t  
answer after several rings too many she punched in his home number.  “Kathy?” she  
asked when a woman answered on the first ring.  “Oh, hi Maureen, is your dad there?   
This is Detective Benson.”  Glancing up as Fin and Munch gathered around her, Olivia  
waited for her partner to come to the phone.  “Elliot, you okay?”  She asked at last then  
chewed her lip as she listened for a minute.  “Yeah, all right.  I’ll see you then.”

“Well?” Munch asked as Olivia hung up the phone seemingly lost in thought.

“Uh, he says there’s nothing wrong and he’ll see me first thing in the morning to go over  
our current case files but then he’s going to take a few days off.  Actually he sounded a  
little uptight.”

“When doesn’t he sound a little uptight?” Munch questioned, throwing his hands up in  
supplication when he received a baleful look from Olivia.

“You know what I think?” Fin asked rhetorically as he didn’t wait for an answer.  “I think  
those G-men are lookin’ ta plant him up at Oz for some deep cover shit.”

“Oz,” Olivia parroted as she tried to recall exactly what the agent had said that day in the  
courthouse.  What she remembered didn’t make her feel any better.  “Yeah, Fin, I’m  
afraid you might be right.”

***

_Other Gemini traits include: adaptability, ingenuity and cleverness. They are a_   
_mental sign and therefore logical, even brilliant at times, possessing a great deal_   
_of charm. However, it is important to remember that the symbol for this sign is_   
_twins, and that not all twins are alike._   
_\---Augustus Hill_

  
He wasn’t very hungry so it couldn’t be feeding time and there was still at least a week or  
two left on his month long sentence in the hole, so the sound of the lock disengaging  
came as a surprise.  Chris looked up with moderate interest when the door swung open.   
Completely comfortable with his own nudity he remained sprawled against the damp  
brick wall as the hack whose name he could never seem to remember walked in and  
tossed him a jarringly orange jumpsuit in lieu of his clothes.

“We takin’ a trip?” Chris inquired without making a move.

“You are,” the hack replied flippantly.  “Hurry up, we haven’t got all night.”

“Speak for yourself,” Chris said as he finally stood, slowly stretched one muscle at a  
time, then sorted out his briefs.  He held them up but didn’t put them on.  “It’s night?   
What time is it?”

“Two a.m.  Come on, Keller, get dressed,” the guard sighed, glancing irritably over his  
shoulder as one of the other prisoners began to beat on the wall and yell for no particular  
reason.  “Don’t make me come in there,” he warned and was rewarded instantly by  
silence.

“Where am I going?” Chris asked insinuating with a gesture that he wouldn’t cooperate  
until he got some information.

“I don’t know for sure,” the guard provided to rush things along.  “There’s an FBI agent  
signing you out for some special lineup or some bullshit.” 

“Signing me out?  So now I’m a fucking library book?”

“The warden ain’t too happy about it either.”

“Yeah right, poor Leo,” Chris scoffed, finally pulling on the underwear.  “He’s just  
pissed about getting dragged out of bed in the middle of the night for this crap.”

The hack smirked and shrugged but wisely gave no verbal agreement that might be used  
against him later.

“At least it gets me out of the hole.” Chris paused after stepping into the legs of the  
jumpsuit and looked at the wall, certain the Aryan in the next cell had been hanging on  
every word.  “Did you get all that, you Nazi fuck?” he shouted before poking his arms  
into the armholes.

“Fuck you, Keller,” came the quick response that more than confirmed the accusation.

“Yeah, fuck me, dickhead,” Chris muttered with a sudden foreboding as he zipped the  
front halfway then pulled on his boots leaving the laces hanging.  “Let’s go,” he told the  
hack as he scratched at his scraggly beard.  “Warden Glynn needs his beauty sleep.”

“You should talk, you look like shit,” the guard noted as he tossed Chris his St. Dismas  
medallion and watched him kiss it reverently before slipping the chain over his head.

“You think I look bad?” Chris laughed as he shuffled out of the cell, “Smell me.”


	4. part 4

In spite of a restless night Olivia found herself at her desk an hour early pulling up the  
database for the state inmate population.  She hadn’t been able to shut off the cop part of  
her brain until almost dawn trying to come up with a logical rationale why this particular  
FBI agent would approach her partner again.  Time after time she came up with the exact  
same reason Fin had suggested.  They wanted Elliot to go into deep cover, only not as  
prisoner X; they had someone specific in mind for him to impersonate.  ‘The resemblance  
is uncanny.’  

Going straight to the search engine she entered the code for Oz and then Elliot’s general  
description.  Before long she was scanning through the results, glancing briefly at each  
photo before moving to the next.  Still, the process proved to be time consuming.

A couple dozen mug shots later hushed voices caught Olivia’s attention.  When she  
looked up and spotted Elliot in jeans and a sweatshirt she noted he hadn’t slept well  
either.  That Kathy was with him, in and of itself, was no big deal as Captain Cragen had  
taken Elliot home yesterday so he’d obviously needed a ride.  The fact that Kathy’s eyes  
were red and puffy and she appeared mad as hell and beside herself with worry all at the  
same time drew Olivia’s stomach up in knots.  She tried not to stare as Elliot spoke  
quietly to his wife, folded his wedding ring into her hand, and then tenderly kissed her  
good-bye.  Kathy clung to him for a minute then wiped her eyes and fled the building.

When he turned and saw Olivia, Elliot seemed a little embarrassed by the display but  
turned all business as he lay down a stack of manila folders off to the side and settled in  
at his desk.  “You’re early,” he commented as he began sorting various files and notes.

“I had a rough night,” Olivia baited.

“Yeah?” Elliot bit, not hiding his concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing much.  It’s just my crazy partner is going undercover in a maximum security  
prison as a convict and I’m afraid he’ll get himself killed.”

Elliot’s face hardened as he looked around the empty squadroom to make sure no one  
was listening.  “Who told you?”

“You did,” Olivia shot back crossly.  “Up until now I was just guessing.”

Leaning back in his chair, Elliot studied her for a moment before offering a slight nod of  
his head in grudging respect.  “Nice move,” he complimented as he got back to  
organizing his case notes.  “I hate to say it but the Remberton thing isn’t going anywhere  
but back to the cold case file,” he sighed, laying one notebook aside and moving on to the  
next.

“If anyone finds out you’re a cop…”

“They won’t,” Elliot interrupted the thought tersely.

“How the hell do you think you’re going to manage this?” Olivia pressed.  “It’s ludicrous  
for you to try to be someone else.”

“I swear it’s not as nuts as it sounds,” Elliot muttered offhandedly as he began a search  
through his desk drawers for God only knew what.  “I’m sorry; I can’t give you the  
details right now.” 

Olivia openly glared at him but the effect was wasted as he never even glanced her way.   
“When are you going to stop beating yourself up about Sharon Bethea?” she asked after  
the silence stretched into minutes.

“This isn’t about that.”  Elliot slammed his top drawer shut and fully focused his attention  
on his partner.

“Isn’t it?  Come on, Elliot, that’s what every move you’ve made in the past two weeks  
has been about.  The trial is over but you’re still obsessing over it like it’s your personal  
cross to bear.”

“Those two families are killing each other,” Elliot pointed out irritably.  “It’s the  
Hatfields and McCoys all over again.”

“It’s not your fault.  Who’s to say this feud wouldn’t have started even if Wellington had  
been found guilty.”  Olivia waited for a response but Elliot tuned her out again, already  
opening another drawer to paw through.  “Do you even know his name?” she asked  
sullenly.

“Who?” Elliot asked without looking up.  “The con?”

“Yeah.”

“Keller, Christopher, number 98K514, convicted June 16, 1998,” Elliot recited off the top  
of his head.  “Felony murder, 2 counts attempted murder, assault with a deadly weapon,  
robbery, driving while under the influence, reckless driving. His sentence is eighty-eight  
years, but he’s up for parole in only fifty.”

“Sounds like this Keller’s a bad boy,” Olivia commented as she typed the name into the  
database.

Elliot waited for the audible gasp.  “He’s my brother,” he explained when Olivia finally  
turned to him in amazement.  “We’re twins, actually.  Look, it’s a long story but I  
promise I’ll tell you everything when I get back.  Right now I want to make sure I’m not  
leaving you in a lurch.  Okay?”

“Okay,” Olivia agreed halfheartedly, taking another good look at the image on her screen  
before switching it off.  She got up and moved around to Elliot’s desk, trying to be  
supportive.  “What have you got on Sheila Wong?  Didn’t you interview her a few days  
ago?”

“Yeah, here,” Elliot said as he picked out a notebook and opened it to show her. 

Twenty minutes later they were mostly finished with the open cases when a young  
redheaded man in a suit came in.  He startled as soon as he saw Elliot but quickly  
gathered his wits and offered his hand.  “Detective Stabler, I presume,” he said.  “I’m  
Special Agent Gary Johansson.”

Elliot nodded and shook his hand.  “This is my partner Detective Benson.”

“Ma’am.”

“Can you think of anything else you might need?” Elliot asked Olivia, pointing to the  
stack of notebooks.

“I’ve got your keys if I need in your desk,” Olivia shrugged feigning a relaxed attitude  
she didn’t feel.  “Don’t worry about me.”

“Ditto,” Elliot urged quietly.  He gathered the stack of folders he’d come in with in one  
hand as Olivia gave him a firm squeeze on the other.  He attempted a reassuring smile  
then turned to walk out without another word.  Agent Johansson tried not to stare but was  
clearly fascinated by Elliot’s appearance as they left. 

When they were gone Olivia went back to her desk and started her own investigation on  
one Christopher Keller, oblivious to her coworkers as they began to arrive some time  
later.

***

“So you really didn’t know?” Johansson asked after they got off the expressway and  
entered a residential area.

“Really, Agent Johnson, I didn’t,” Elliot assured apathetically.  He leaned his head back  
on the seat in the standard FBI four-door sedan and gazed out the window, discreetly  
storing away each twist and turn of the route for future reference. 

“Uh, it’s Johansson, but hey, call me Gary.  I’m nothing but a glorified taxi driver on this  
op anyway.  I don’t mind though.  The company cars are a lot nicer than mine and I do  
like to drive.  But I was on the detail that picked up your brother last night and we had to  
take one of those crappy prisoner vans because Taylor wanted at least six of us to go get  
him.”

Elliot’s ears perked up but he didn’t let his interest slip into his voice.  “Oh yeah?  Six  
agents to pick up one guy?”

“Overkill if you ask me.”

“Sounds like it.  So what was Keller like?” Elliot hated himself for asking but the need  
for information seemed to be growing by the minute. 

“Smelly,” Gary answered with a laugh.  “I’m glad I was driving and not in the back with  
him.  Apparently he’d been in Ad Seg for like two weeks without a shower.  You know,  
Administrative Segregation?  Like time-out for naughty prisoners?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Anyway, the warden was pissed,” Gary continued to chatter amicably.  “He said the  
whole setup was hinky; didn’t like one of ‘his’ prisoners being carted off in the middle of  
the night.  I didn’t think he was gonna let us take him but Taylor pulled him aside and  
quick as a wink we were on the road.”

“Taylor got something on the warden?”

“I doubt it.  He probably threatened to wake up the governor or something.  Keller said it  
was all for show anyway.”

“How was he really?” Elliot pressed again more intently.  “No jokes.”

“He was cool,” Gary assured.  “I expected him to be a real bad ass the way Taylor talked  
about him on the way down there, but he was actually very sociable.  And funny as hell;  
he cracked on Taylor a couple good ones during the ride.  I thought Taylor was gonna  
pop a blood vessel before we got here.  And I do mean here,” he added as the car slowed  
and they made a left hand turn into a private drive before stopping. 

As Gary punched in the code to open the gates Elliot made a mental note of the address.   
A minute later they were parking in front of a moderate sized older home in a very  
private setting.

“Safehouse sweet safehouse,” Gary announced as he shut off the engine.

Elliot got out of the car and followed the younger man up the short walkway.  Gary  
pressed his thumbprint into a hidden reader and within a couple seconds he was able to  
open the door.  He ushered Elliot into the large, unfurnished foyer. 

Footsteps echoed on the marble floor and Fuller appeared in the doorway of the empty  
sitting room.  “Elliot, I see you made it.”

Shrugging off the overly familiar greeting, Elliot got down to business.  “Where is he?”

“Upstairs.”

Not wasting a step Elliot trotted up the curving stairway. Reaching the top he was  
vaguely surprised to find that the residential feel of the house had given way to a guard  
station and viewing area.  The wall length one-way mirror revealed a maximum security  
facility with accommodations for one guest. 

“Are you carrying a weapon?” a female agent asked as she stepped out from behind the  
desk with a handheld metal detector.

“No,” Elliot replied, glancing past her as she swept him with the wand.

“Thank you, sir.”

Elliot brushed by her absently and moved to look into the combination interrogation  
room and cell beyond.  A man with dark, cropped hair sat with his back to the glass as  
Agent Taylor browbeat him from the other side of the small table.  The neatly made cot  
in the corner had clearly not been used. 

Fuller stepped up beside Elliot and turned up the volume on the speaker.

“…that doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re a stupid cocksucker, because I do,” an eerily  
familiar voice finished a thought.  “I just meant that you’re more devious than I gave you  
credit for.”

Taylor laughed as he got up from the table.  “So glad you approve, Keller.”

“I get the whole no sleep, no food… no fucking information thing,” Keller continued  
sounding tired but not especially stressed out.  “But you gotta know I’m gonna yell and  
scream about my civil liberties as soon as I get back to Oz.”

“Is that true?” Elliot asked Fuller in alarm as the exchange continued on the other side of  
the glass.  “You haven’t fed him or let him sleep?”

“Taylor insisted he be allowed to use the extra time for an interview.”

“This isn’t an interview.  Depriving a prisoner of basic needs amounts to nothing short of  
torture from where I’m standing.”

“He hasn’t been here that long, Detective.  Certainly not long enough to be considered  
inhuman.”

“I want this to stop,” Elliot warned with an edge of anger in his tone.  “Now.”

Fuller sighed and rapped on the glass to get Taylor’s attention.  “Tell me, Elliot, would  
your position be the same if the interviewee weren’t your brother?”

“I believe that surprise I told you about is here,” Taylor taunted Keller as he went to the  
door on the inside of the room.  “Open,” he called out and was quickly buzzed out into  
the connecting hallway.

Keller turned in his seat curiously, his face finally coming into view.  “Whoop-de-  
fucking-do,” he commented wryly, getting up to approach the mirror.  “How ya doin’?”  
he asked, seeming to look beyond his own reflection.

Elliot swallowed compulsively as he got a good look at the man he hadn’t been in contact  
with practically since he left the womb they’d shared.  Keller rubbed a hand across his  
stubbled chin and muttered something about killing for a shave before meandering back  
to his chair.

“So Detective,” Taylor started in the second he was let out into the viewing area.  “I’m  
dying to know; did you call your mother last night?”

“Shut up, Taylor,” Fuller snapped.

“I want to know how they decided who got which baby.  One child would grow up in a  
good family with security and a future and one would survive practically on the streets  
getting by any way he could.  There but for God’s grace sits you, my friend,” Taylor  
rhapsodized.

“That’s a little simplistic, isn’t it?” Fuller argued as Elliot ignored them and continued to  
stare through the glass.  “We don’t know that they wouldn’t have still turned out the same  
if their positions had been switched.”

Taylor shrugged.  “What do you think, Stabler?  Are you more than a few bad life  
experiences away from being a serial killer?”

Elliot cut his eyes at Taylor, suddenly looking every bit as threatening as his brother was  
purported to be.  “I’m filling charges as soon as this is over.”

“For what?” Taylor asked incredulously.

“For the way you treat your prisoners.”

“Keller’s fine,” Taylor insisted.  “He’s better off here than he was six hours ago.  They  
had him in the hole for killing his roommate.  That’s nothing but concrete walls and a  
bucket to piss in.”

“He punched a guard,” Fuller corrected at Elliot’s grim expression.  “He’s not even a  
suspect in the other man’s death.”

“Does he know?  About me?”

“We haven’t told him anything,” Taylor shrugged.  “How uncivilized of us.”

“I want privacy,” Elliot said as he reached over and turned the volume back down.

“We can’t leave you alone completely, but we’ll leave the sound off,” Fuller offered as a  
compromise.  “We don’t have any idea how he’s going to react so there’ll be a guard in  
the hall.”

With a nod of acceptance Elliot moved to the door and waited to be buzzed in.  “Alice  
couldn’t bear to choose,” he told them without turning around.  “They flipped a coin.”

“Wow,” Taylor uttered as the door clanked shut behind Elliot.  “Talk about the luck of  
the draw.”


	5. part 5

Sprawled in his chair, Keller idly scratched his crotch and glanced over at the oh-so-  
tempting cot in the corner.  Time didn’t mean much in the hole and since he was already  
awake when they snatched him out of Oz he wasn’t even sure how long it had been since  
he’d last slept.  Basically he figured the makeshift bed was just a tease anyway.  Taylor  
hadn’t let him anywhere near it and he seriously doubted his ‘surprise’ was going to  
involve forty winks. 

Chris didn’t trust Taylor as far as he could throw him so when a shadow passed in front  
of the window on the door he mentally shored up his resolve not to let the fucker get the  
upper hand in spite of his own rapidly dulling wits.  As the buzzer sounded and the door  
swung open he lazily turned his head as a lone figure stepped just inside the room and  
stopped.  In the fraction of a second it took to register what he was seeing his jaw  
dropped and he froze in place, acutely aware of his own heart as it pounded frantically in  
his chest.  A silent minute stretched into two. Neither man moved as their gazes remained  
locked.

When the initial shock began to wear off Chris forced himself to take a deep breath to  
clear his head as he climbed to his feet.  “I’d hate to wake up to that ugly mug in the  
mirror every morning,” he finally deadpanned.  “Oh wait … I do.”

The visitor took an uncertain step forward and allowed the door to click shut behind him  
but made no move to get any closer.  A guard peeked through the small pane of safety  
glass to make sure everything was okay then turned away.

Suddenly furious, Chris spun toward the mirror.  “What the fuck are you up to, Taylor?   
‘Cause this shit ain’t funny.”  He pounded the glass wall twice with the side of his  
clenched fist hard enough to unknowingly cause the two men on the other side to jump  
back in concern. 

“Christopher.”

His quietly spoken name instantly deflated his anger and forced him to spin back around.   
Chris pressed his shaking hands to the glass behind him and his eyes burned suspiciously  
bright.  “Elliot?” he whispered as his brows drew together in doubt.  “Is it you?”

“Yeah,” the other man answered hoarsely, unable to hide his surprise, “You knew?”

Chris nodded mutely and Elliot parroted the gesture without thinking.  Another awkward  
moment passed as they continued to gape at each other. 

“I didn’t …” Elliot finally started to speak at the same time Chris began, “Ma said …”

“Go ahead.”

“You go.” 

Their words tumbled over each other and they both stopped to stare again.  To break the  
stalemate Elliot pointed to Chris who shrugged and began again. 

“Ma talked about you as far back as I can remember.  She even made up stories about us  
and stuff.”

“Oh,” Elliot mumbled feebly.  “I didn’t find out until recently.  I guess it never occurred  
to me that you might already know.”

They repeated the nodding ritual, both sending distrustful glances towards the mirrored  
wall.

“How’d you find out?”

Elliot shook his head and managed a strained chuckle.  “I ran into Agent Taylor at the  
courthouse a few weeks ago.  He thought I was you.”

“No shit?”  Chris blurted out as he turned to face the mirror with a big smile.  “I’ll bet  
that chapped your ass, huh Taylor?”

“He can’t hear you,” Elliot replied.  “The sound is off.”

“Don’t bet the farm on that one,” Chris smirked, confident in his not totally unfounded  
paranoia.  He relaxed a little as he moved back toward his seat, searching for something  
to say.  “So, uh… what?  I don’t even know where to start.  You grow up around here?”

“Queens,” Elliot said seeming troubled as he stepped forward, keeping the table between  
them.  “If you knew about me, how come you never came looking for me?”

“Queens,” Chris huffed softly as he sat down.  “You were a lot like Santa Claus.  Ma  
wasn’t always right in the head.  Sometimes the lights were on but nobody was home.  At  
some point I just stopped believing in you.”

Elliot sat heavily in the other chair and rested his forearms on the table in front of him.   
When Chris reached tentatively for his hand he pulled it away, sending the clear message  
he didn’t want to be touched. 

A wounded look crossed Keller’s face but he covered the hurt by leaning back in his  
chair and continuing in a more nonchalant manner.  “Ma always planned to take you  
back, you know, when things got better.”

“You mean she planned to kidnap me.”

“She said God would forgive her because a family should be together.  Lucky for you,  
things went from bad to worse from one step-father to the next.”

“What about our real father?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.  If she knew who he was she never mentioned it to me.  I  
don’t know about you, but it’s kind of fitting that I’m a bastard.”

“That’s crap,” Elliot scoffed as he distractedly scratched his ear.  “And you still haven’t  
explained why you never came looking for me.”

Chris sighed wearily.  “As I got older Ma got depressed more often than not.  She talked  
about you less and less and the last time I asked about you she said you were in a better  
place.  I thought she meant you were dead.  How the hell was I supposed to know she  
meant Queens?”

“Where is she now?”

Chris blinked then rubbed his fingers hard against one eye.  “She died when I was  
twelve.”

 “How?” Elliot rasped out, his icy façade beginning to crumble.

“I’m not sure.  I was in juvey at the time and nobody would tell me anything,” Chris  
muttered, also losing the battle to stay detached.  “Artie, that was my last step-father, he  
said she died of a broken heart because I wouldn’t stay out of trouble.”

“That’s not true,” Elliot defended angrily.  “It wasn’t your fault she died.  What kind of  
jerk tells a little kid that?”

Chris allowed a small smile at his brother’s suddenly protective attitude.  “Artie was shit  
for a father but he was a first-class grifter.  He taught me a lot, said I had a natural talent  
for the confidence game.”

“You’re saying he taught you how to be a con man,” Elliot clarified.  “How old were  
you?”

“Ah, don’t blame Artie for the way I turned out, I was a rotten kid.”

“Even if you weren’t exactly an altar boy you were still just a child.”

“Who says I wasn’t an altar boy?” Chris challenged in an offended tone.

Elliot stared at him in disbelief.  “You were an altar boy.”

“Briefly,” Chris confessed.  “What can I say?  It didn’t really work out.  Hell, by my  
second week I had already made a priest cry and a nun swear.”

“So they kicked you out?”

“Let’s just say we came to a mutual understanding.  Ma still dragged me to church all the  
time, at least until I was old enough to put up a fight.  You gotta know she did her best  
with me.  I was just really hard to handle.  What can I say?  I still like to fuck with the  
clergy whenever I get the chance.”

“Please,” Elliot winced, “don’t tell me any more about that.”

“Hey, at least one of Ma’s boys turned out good.”

“You’re assuming a lot.”

“I don’t think so.  I’m bound to be the evil twin in any given scenario.  So, you’re not a  
Fed?”

“NYPD.”

“A cop, that figures.  No, that’s good,” Chris backpedaled at Elliot’s affronted glare.   
“Ma would be real proud of you.” 

They stared at each other again in silence for a moment then Elliot sighed and leaned  
forward as he offered his hand.  “Sorry I was such a prick.  I’m still getting used to the  
idea that my whole life has been a lie.  I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

Chris didn’t hesitate as he eagerly grasped Elliot’s outstretched hand and squeezed it.  “I  
can’t believe you’re really here.  But I have to warn you, if Taylor did arrange this little  
get-together he only did it to use you to get to me.”

A harsh rap sounded from the other side of the mirror but they ignored it.

“I know,” Elliot said.  “I won’t let him.”

They heard the outer buzzer and both looked at the door irritably, their hands remaining  
clasped.  “Still think they weren’t listening?” Chris asked.

“They promised.  Assholes.”

“Cocksuckers.”

Taylor swung the door open but didn’t enter.  “Let’s go, Stabler.”

“Stabler?  That’s your name?”

“Yeah,” Elliot replied as he let go of Chris’ hand and got to his feet.  “I’ll be right back.”

Chris got up as well and trailed him to the door.  “I don’t know what you’re up to,” he  
told Taylor, “but it ain’t gonna work.”

“Shut up, Keller.”

Elliot grabbed Taylor’s arm as he passed him.  “Let’s get this over with.”

Taylor shot a scowl at Chris then allowed Elliot to steer him down the hallway.  When  
the guard stepped into the doorway Chris held his hands up and moved out of the way as  
the door slammed shut.  As a ‘fuck you’ to Taylor he went to the cot and lay down to  
wait for his brother’s return.


	6. part 6

“I hated to rain on your parade there, Detective,” Taylor goaded as they passed through  
the hallway, “but we need to get this show on the road.”

“You’re just afraid if you leave us alone for too long we’ll form some kind of emotional  
bond and I won’t be inclined to screw him over for you,” Elliot retorted. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.  Even if you wanted to, which I’m sure you don’t, you wouldn’t be  
able to form any kind of real bond with a sociopath like Keller.”

“He’s my brother.”

“Given your line of work I’d say he’s your worst nightmare,” Taylor argued, getting in  
Elliot’s face when they stopped to be buzzed in to the viewing area.  “Don’t try to protect  
him from justice through some misguided sense of family. You don’t know this guy from  
Adam.”

“Don’t presume to tell me how to feel about him,” Elliot growled back, not giving an  
inch.

“Taylor,” Fuller warned as the door opened.  He clamped a hand to the younger agent’s  
arm and reeled him in.  “Give it a rest.  You’re wasting valuable time.”

Elliot followed and Taylor glared at him before turning his gaze to the window where he  
spotted the reclining figure on the cot.  “Get him up,” he told the female agent who  
obediently moved to the speaker.

“No.” Elliot intercepted the woman by placing his hand over the intercom button.  “If you  
want my cooperation, this ends now,” he said going over Taylor’s head to Fuller.

“Fine.  Let him sleep,” Fuller agreed.

“This is my operation …” Taylor started to protest as his cheeks flushed a deep red.

“I beg to differ,” Fuller interrupted, appearing on the verge of losing his cool.  “I’ve let  
you push the envelope on this but enough is enough.  Stand down.  If you can’t do that  
I’ll have you removed.”

Taylor blinked in angry surprise, his lip twitching with a rejoinder he didn’t have the  
balls to say out loud. “Yes sir,” he finally ground out between clenched teeth. 

“Now Elliot, if you don’t mind we really do need to get down to business.” Fuller tried to  
hand over the files Elliot had left in the car that Johansson had later gone back to retrieve.

“I have conditions,” Elliot informed him as he pushed the folders away.

“Oh for Pete’s sake,” Taylor mumbled, pacing to the window and back as he tried  
desperately to keep his temper in check.

“Go ahead,” Fuller urged sounding reasonable even as he glanced at his watch.

“First of all I want Taylor to leave Keller alone for the duration of his stay.  No  
interviews, no interrogations, no more harassment.”

“Fuck you,” Taylor swore earning a hard look from Fuller.  “Now you’re interfering with  
my job.  I can’t believe you’re falling for Keller’s shit after only ten minutes alone with  
him.”

“Second,” Elliot continued unabated by Taylor’s tirade, “I’m going to call my partner to  
bring some things for him.” 

“This is a Federal safehouse, not a freakin’ Holiday Inn,” Taylor objected.  “And you’re  
not authorized to tell your partner anything.”

“Benson’s a damn fine detective,” Elliot replied gruffly.  “She’s already it figured out.  I  
guarantee she’s not going to compromise your safehouse.”

“Oh please,” Taylor uttered under his breath in disgust.

“I want her to have access to Keller while I’m gone.  And if I find out he’s been further  
mistreated I am going to file charges.”

Fuller nodded his agreement.  “I think those terms are acceptable.”

Taylor threw up his hands and stormed off towards the stairs before making an abrupt  
about face and coming right back.  “What about my case?”

“Taylor, Keller’s not even up for parole for fifty years, it’s not like he’s going to get  
away.  Your case will keep,” Fuller soothed.  “If he’s guilty it will come out eventually.”

“What about the families of the victims?” Taylor demanded of Elliot.  “Why should they  
have to wait?”

“I’m not going in there to dig up dirt on my brother,” Elliot replied tightly.  “However, if  
I inadvertently uncover something about your case while I’m in there I promise I’ll pass  
it on to you.”

“Why?  Because of your strong moral values?  Your high and mighty ethics?”

“Because I’m a good cop,” Elliot stated firmly.  “I won’t ignore evidence.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Fuller approved as he held the folders out once again.   
“Now please, we need to move forward with this.”

Elliot accepted the files.  “And I need to make that call.”

Fuller motioned to the agent at the desk and she produced a secured line.  Taylor went to  
the window once more to unhappily view his prey for a moment then stalked off without  
a glance in either Elliot or Fuller’s direction.

Keeping his eyes on Taylor’s retreating back, Elliot dialed Olivia’s cell number.  “Liv,”  
he greeted as soon as she picked up.  “I need a huge favor …”

***

Elliot’s first thought as he approached the cot and took in the way the strong features  
seemed softened and vulnerable in slumber was ‘I don’t look like that when I’m asleep’.   
His second thought was ‘who am I kidding’.

“Chris,” he called sympathetically as he reached down to give the closest shoulder a  
shake.

Waking with a start, Keller clenched his fists and looked ready to swing.  “Elliot?” he  
asked groggily as he took in his surroundings and relaxed.

“Yeah, sorry I can’t let you rest right now.  I need your help.”

“S’okay,” Chris slurred as he sat up and rubbed a hand through his unwashed hair.  “I’ll  
get all the sleep I need when I’m dead.”

Grimacing at the thought Elliot moved to the table and tossed the file folders down on top  
of it as he took a seat.  Chris went into the doorless bathroom and unselfconsciously took  
a leak in full view of the security camera.  “What’s up?” he asked as he zipped up on the  
way over to the table.

“My partner’s bringing you some stuff to get cleaned up with.  She’s going to take a long  
lunch so she’ll be here later.”

“Your partner’s a girl?” Chris perked up considerably.

“Don’t let her catch you calling her that,” Elliot warned.  “And behave yourself or she’ll  
kick you ass.”

Chris pulled off an innocent ‘who me?’ expression as he settled in his chair.

“Right,” Elliot grinned back at him as he shoved the files over to him.  “Take a look at  
these.”

“Rebadow?” Chris asked as he randomly opened one folder after another.  “Hill, Jackson  
… Beecher.  What the fuck?”

“Those are short bios on all the current residents of Em City,” Elliot prompted.  “I need  
to know what kind relationship you have with each of them, how you interact on a day to  
day basis.”

“Why?” Chris narrowed his eyes suspiciously and pushed the slim folders away.  “What  
has Taylor got you up to?”

“I’m going into Oz undercover.  As you.”

Chris wrinkled his nose and sniffed but didn’t speak right away as he sat glaring at the  
mirror.  Finally he turned to Elliot.  “You know, you got it backwards.  I should be Cain  
to your Abel.  I’m the bad seed, remember?”

“I’m not betraying you,” Elliot swore as he reached across the table.  “This has nothing to  
do with you.”

“Then what?” Chris asked angrily as he yanked his arm away.

“I’m going in to retrieve some information from an FBI informant, that’s all.  I won’t lie,  
Taylor does want me to actively try to find something to nail you with while I’m in there  
but I told him to shove it,” Elliot said, breaking eye contact on the last words.

“And if something negative about me happens to fall in your lap you’re just gonna look  
the other way?” Chris questioned distrustfully.

“If you’re innocent you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Chris laughed out loud.  “Ah, see, there’s the rub, big brother.  I’m lots of things, but  
innocent is rarely one of them.”

“So you did rape and murder those men?” Elliot asked coldly.

“I have never raped anyone,” Chris swore as he grabbed Elliot’s wrist and stared directly  
into his eyes.  “I can’t say I never murdered nobody, that’s why I’m doing time and you  
know it.  As for what Taylor said I did … don’t ask me that, ‘cause I can’t win in this  
situation.”

“Because you’re guilty.”

“No,” Chris released Elliot’s arm with a little push and sat back heavily in his chair.   
“Because no matter what I say or do, even if I swear on our mother’s grave, you’ll always  
have that Taylor-shaped doubt in the back of your mind.  I don’t ever want you to wonder  
if I lied to you so I’m just not gonna say anything.”

“Okay,” Elliot nodded solemnly.  “I can see your point.  Now try to see mine.  I’m not  
trying to hurt you.  In fact the more information I have going in the better things are  
going to turn out.  For both of us.”

“This is crazy,” Chris retorted, shaking his head as he got up abruptly, knocking his chair  
over in the process. 

“Look at us, Chris,” Elliot said urgently.  “It’ll work.”

“It won’t,” Chris spat out, swiping his hand across the table to send the files flying.  “I’m  
sure you tell your perps horror stories about how bad it is in prison, but you have no idea  
what really goes on.”

“You’re right, I don’t.  That’s why I need you to brief me,” Elliot explained, making no  
move to gather the scattered papers.

“Brief you,” Chris huffed sarcastically as he paced around the table.  “How’s this for a  
briefing?  About the time you were trying on your powder-blue tux and fantasizing about  
making it to second base after the Junior Prom I was in Lardner getting my cherry popped  
by my Neo-Nazi cellmate.”

“Are you serious?”

“Why would I lie about something like that?  I don’t suppose you got a file on Vern  
Schillinger?”

“I don’t remember that name,” Elliot stammered as he shifted through the few papers still  
on the table.  “He lives in Emerald City?”

“No, but he delivers the fucking mail so I still get to see him every day even if I don’t run  
into him in the mess hall or the gym or the library.  Oh, and by the way, the Aryan  
Brotherhood is out to skin me alive because I turned him in for an assault.  They’ll kill  
you if they get the chance and even with this wealth of data from the FBI you’ll never  
even see it comin’.  Obviously you didn’t think this through any better than they did.”

“So enlighten me.”

“Fuck that.  I’ve been in and out of prison my whole adult life; you can’t learn this shit  
overnight.  The Feds are setting you up for a fall.  I’m not gonna help ‘em.”

“I know I’m a prison virgin, but I’ve got your reputation to protect me.” 

“Virgin,” Chris scoffed.  “I guess that’s pretty appropriate.  But how long do you think  
that’s gonna last?  If you screw up bad enough my rep won’t mean dick.  If anyone finds  
out you’re a cop the chances you’ll get gang banged before they kill you are pretty good.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Elliot swore, starting to lose his temper.  “I’m going in with  
or without your help.”

“Don’t you have a family?” Chris asked quietly, his demeanor changing completely.

Elliot leveled a pissed off glower at him.  “Yeah.”

“Yeah?  So I got what?  Nieces?  Nephews?”

“Three nieces, one nephew,” Elliot provided although he was reluctant to bring his family  
into it.

“Christ.  What about them?  How can you even think about doing this?”

“Because it’s my job.”

“Elliot, please.  Just walk away,” Chris pleaded.  “Walk away from me and the Feds.  Go  
home to your wife and kids and forget all about this shit.”

Elliot stood and started to gather the files.  “Thanks for nothing.”

Chris leaned over the table and put his hand on top of the papers.  “Then let me do it.”

“They’ll never trust you enough.”

“Taylor!” Chris called as he advanced on the mirrored wall and patted his chest with one  
hand.  “I’m your man, send me instead.  I’ll get the information.  I’ll do whatever you  
want.”

“It’s not Taylor’s call,” Elliot placated as he got up and stood behind his brother.  As  
their eyes met in the mirror the reality of their resemblance hit home in spite of the  
difference in facial hair.  “Twenty-four hours, I’ll be in and out.  Help me.”

Chris closed his eyes.  “It’s a bad idea.”

“It’ll be okay.  We’re gonna say I had a head injury.  If I screw anything up that should  
cover it.”

With a deep sigh Chris opened his eyes and turned around to face Elliot.  “So there’s no  
way I’m gonna talk you out of this?”

“Sorry.”

“How long do we have?”

Elliot glanced at his watch.  “Less than an hour now.”

“That’s not enough time.”

“That’s all we’ve got.  Let’s get started,” Elliot urged as he bent to pick up the files from  
the floor.  Chris reluctantly helped him and together they sorted the papers into a messy  
pile on the table.

“Who the hell’s this?” Chris asked as he pulled out the first bio.  “I don’t know this guy.”

Elliot pointed out the date. “Looks like he’s new.”

“Oh yeah,” Chris agreed.  “I guess I was already in the hole when he showed up.  He’s an  
ugly son of a bitch.  Shit.  I hope he’s not my new roommate.”

“Yeah, I heard you recently had a vacancy.  What about this guy in the wheelchair?”

“That’s Hill.  He’s okay, we talk some.  We hang out and watch Miss Sally.”

“The kiddy show?” Elliot asked in confusion.

“It’s very educational,” Chris smirked as he continued to sort through the pages.  “Okay,  
Ryan O’Reily.  We’re friends, sort of.  He’s a good resource but don’t trust him too  
much.  The only one he’ll really stick his neck out for is his half-wit brother Cyril.”   
Pausing to sort through the papers to find the second O’Reily’s file, Chris placed another  
folder to the side.  “Here, talk about a head injury, this guy’s really got one.  He’s slow  
but he’s got a mean set of fists and he does whatever Ryan tells him to do.”

Having already gone over the bios Elliot studied the photos only briefly then stacked  
them with the other file they’d already discussed.

“You should probably stay away from Ryan,” Chris said meaningfully after a cautious  
glance at the mirror.

“What about, uh, Pancamo?” Elliot asked as he subtly nodded his understanding and  
moved on to another file.

“He’s the leader of the Italians.  Hell of a boxer, Chucky the Enforcer.  We get along  
okay, nothing too personal though …”


	7. part 7

“No files on the staff?” Chris asked half an hour later when they got to the bottom of the  
stack, save for the single folder he still held back.  “What? Your amnesia is gonna be that  
selective?  You only gonna remember the prisoners?”

“The Feds must not have thought staff bios were necessary,” Elliot shrugged.  “The  
correctional officers change with each shift anyway, right?”

“Well yeah, but not day to day.  We still know who they are,” Chris retorted irritably.   
“Look, this is basically a con.  There are only a few things in life that I’m really good at  
but working a game just happens to be one of them.  The devil is in the details and these  
guys got shit for details.  You wanted my help.  I’m helping the best way I know how.”

“You’re right.  At least you can give me a verbal rundown.”

“Fucking Feds.  Okay, so no pictures,” Chris sighed.  “Murphy, head hack, big Irish mug,  
you can’t miss him.  He’s a little pissed at me right now because he turned into collateral  
damage when I put down the rookie the day somebody airholed my podmate.  A little  
groveling to him on my behalf would be good,” he added, batting his eyelashes.

“Grovel to Murphy,” Elliot deadpanned.  “Sure, I’ll put that on top of my to-do list.   
Why’d you hit the guard anyway?”

“Hey, I taught that kid a valuable lesson,” Chris insisted stubbornly.  “I may have even  
saved his life.  He’ll never turn his back on a prisoner again, not even in an emergency.”

“Yeah, okay.  So why’d you hit him?”

“He messed up my laundry, the little shit.  It’s not like I got a lot of clothes to spare and  
now they’re all gonna be bloodstained,” Chris sulked.  “Can we continue?”

Elliot waved his hand.  “Please do.”

“Alright, so the warden is Leo Glynn; he’ll be the big black guy in the suit and tie.  I  
wouldn’t say he likes me, but he doesn’t have it out for me like he does some guys and  
that’s a good thing.  Sister Pete.  Oh boy, that’s another story.”

“A nun?”

“Yeah, Sister Peter Marie,” Chris grimaced but quickly covered it with a fake cough.   
“She’s the resident shrink, little bitty thing, dark hair with some gray.  I fucked with her  
head and she never forgave me.”

“So you really do like to mess with the clergy.”

Chris shrugged sheepishly.  “There were extenuating circumstances this time.  I try to be  
respectful for the most part, watch my language and not scratch my nuts in front of her,  
that kind of stuff.  And it’s the damnedest thing, but I still automatically stand up  
whenever a nun comes into the room.”

Elliot smirked and nodded.  “Yeah, I know what you mean.  I think that’s a life long  
reflex after Catholic school.”

“Yeah.  Speaking of clergy, Father Mukada’s easy to spot, he wears a collar.  Watch your  
step around him though.  I don’t really trust him, but I may just be like that with all  
priests, I’m not sure.”

“A throwback to your altar boy days?”

“Maybe.  Then there’s Tim McManus, unit manager of Cell Block 5.  He’s the one who  
named it Emerald City, it’s his pet project.  Personally, I think he’s a baldheaded prick  
who likes to throw his weight around.  Ignore him.  The rest of the COs wear name  
badges so it shouldn’t be a big problem to tell them apart.  I don’t go out of my way to  
socialize with any of ‘em anyway.”

“What about this guy?” Elliot asked, reaching over to tug the last file out from under  
Chris’ hand.  “Tobias Beecher?”

After rubbing a hand down his face Chris turned apprehensive eyes to Elliot, not  
bothering to try to hide his discomfort.  “Toby.  He used to be my podmate.”

“Okay,” Elliot met the solemn gaze straight on.  “There seems to be more to it than that.”   
He waited for a response but Chris didn’t seem ready to elaborate so he pushed a little.  “I  
understand that men in prison form certain … relationships …”

“It was more than that,” Chris said softly, for the first time seeming to be bothered by the  
ever present camera.

Elliot raised his eyebrows in surprise.  “And now?”

“Now we just fuck with each other instead of actually fucking.  We don’t have time to go  
into the details but in a nutshell I broke his arms and later he stabbed me in the back.   
Literally.  Twice.  At least he said it was him, I never really found out for sure.”

“Wow.”

“Just stay away from him.  Beecher’s real smart, he was a Harvard educated lawyer  
before he killed a kid while driving drunk.”

“I read that.  I can’t believe they sent him to Oz.”

“Yeah, he’s paid his dues.  As bad as his own conscience fucked him over about it, he  
was Schillinger’s mark, too.  And mine.  If anybody figures out you’re not me, it’ll be  
Toby.  Seriously, I don’t know what he’ll do if he finds out.  He goes a little crazy  
sometimes … and he still loves me.”

“I’ll be careful.”  Elliot checked his watch again as the outer buzzer sounded.  He settled  
Beecher’s folder on top of the pile and gave Chris’ hand an understanding squeeze.

“This is gonna be a problem,” Chris said as he rolled Elliot’s right forearm over to look at  
the Marine tattoo displayed below the pushed up arm of the sweatshirt.

“I’ll wear a long sleeve shirt,” Elliot replied offhandedly as the inner door buzzed and  
Fuller came in with a large cardboard tube under his arm.

“That won’t work,” Chris argued.  “You’re wearing a long sleeve shirt now and I can still  
see it.  You’re a pusher.”

“What?”

“You’re constantly pushing your sleeves up.  You’ve done it a dozen times today and  
you’re not even aware of it.  The tat shows every time.”

“Oh.”

“Good call,” Fuller praised as he uncorked the tube and pulled out several large papers.  
“We’ll put an ace bandage over it.  That’ll fit in with the cover story that he got roughed  
up.”

“Yeah, okay for that one, but what about this?” Chris asked as he unzipped his jumpsuit  
down to his belly and rolled his left shoulder enough to free it.  “You’ll have to change  
out of your transport uniform eventually.  Don’t count on privacy; most of the walls in  
Em City are glass.”

Elliot exchanged an amused look with Fuller then tugged his sweatshirt over his head  
leaving it bunched up around his elbows as he turned slightly in his seat to show off his  
own left bicep. 

Chris gaped at the body art so similar to his own.  “Nice ink,” he finally managed.  “Is it  
real or did you get it drawn on for this?”

“It’s real.  I’ve had it for years.”

“That’s, uh, that’s … weird.  What a coincidence, huh?  Bet you don’t have one of these  
though,” Chris said as he stood up and dropped his pants.

“A butterfly?” Elliot laughed when he spotted the small blue tattoo on the front of Chris’  
left thigh.  “Doesn’t really fit your image.”

“Contrary to popular belief, I’m a lover, not a fighter,” Chris retorted with a smug grin.   
“Looks like you’ll have to keep your pants on.”

“I think I can handle that.”

“Hope you don’t have to take a shit while you’re there.”

“I brought blueprints of Oz for you to go over, but you might as well change while you’re  
already half-naked,” Fuller interrupted, trying to get things moving in the right direction.

“Who are you again?” Chris questioned as he tugged the jumpsuit up his thighs far  
enough to sit down while he pulled off his boots.  Meanwhile, Elliot slipped his arms  
completely out of the sweatshirt and kicked off his sneakers.

“I’m Special Agent Fuller.  Ultimately, I’m in charge of this operation.”

“Is that so?” Chris asked as he looked up.  “Then you’re just the man I need to talk to.”

“Feel free.”

Once his boots were off Chris stood and stepped out of the jumpsuit.  “I just wanted to  
say for the record that if you get my brother killed with this half-baked plan, it’ll take  
more than prison walls to protect you from me.”

“Chris,” Elliot scolded, sending a concerned glance at the security camera.

“Oh good, we got it on tape,” Chris went on unrepentantly.  “You can go back and watch  
it again and again so you won’t forget.”

“Nothing is going to happen to your brother,” Fuller soothed, ever the diplomat even with  
a convicted killer.  “You have my word.”

“And you have mine,” Chris assured, tossing the jumpsuit across the table.  “Sorry about  
the smell,” he said to Elliot.

Elliot slipped off his socks, then after a brief hesitation shucked off his jeans.

“Well would you look at that,” Chris teased immediately when he spotted the bikini  
underwear.  “A banana hammock.  I guess you do have a wild side.”

“Shut up.”

“Sure, sure … just, ah, I don’t have any of those,” Chris pointed out shrewdly, “So you  
really ought to lose ‘em.”

“Who the hell is going to notice my underwear?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“They do stand out, Detective,” Fuller agreed, getting an eye full.

Elliot scowled at both of them as he peeled off the tight blue briefs. 

“You can have mine,” Chris offered with a smirk.  He slipped a thumb under the elastic  
band of his white Hanes as he reached for the jeans with his other hand. 

“Pass,” Elliot grumbled, stepping into the jumpsuit commando. “Whoa,” he replied as he  
and got a good whiff of the orange fabric.  “This thing is riper than you are.”

“Told you,” Chris grinned.  When they finished dressing, he put his fingers under the  
ribbed collar of the sweatshirt to grasp the chain around his neck.  As he pulled it over his  
head he kissed the medallion then handed it over. “You’ll need this.”

“Saint Dismas,” Elliot noted as he examined necklace before putting it on, “The good  
thief of Calvary.”

“Patron Saint of undertakers, criminals, and death row inmates,” Chris provided with an  
unassuming shrug.  “Hopefully neither one of us will ever be the latter, or in need of the  
former for a long, long time.”

“Amen.”

Fuller unrolled the schematics and weighted the corners down with folders while the  
twins traded shoes.  “Alright Keller, take us through a normal day.”

“Lemme see,” Chris said as he shoved his feet into Elliot’s shoes without untying them.   
“Okay, this is Em City.  My pod is in the penthouse, here on the end.”

Elliot slipped sockless into the boots and leaned over Chris’ shoulder to get a good look. 

***

“It’s time, gentlemen,” Fuller announced after Elliot knew the layout of Oz backwards  
and forwards.  “We have a schedule to keep.”

“I’m ready,” Elliot said as he took a final look in the mirror.

“Just remember the stuff I told you,” Chris prompted nervously as he unzipped the  
jumpsuit a little then tucked the chain of the necklace under the collar.  “You should  
probably stay in the pod as much as possible.  And walk with a swagger like you got a set  
so nobody will fuck with you.  It’s all in the attitude.”

Elliot allowed the fussing for another minute then caught his brother’s restless hands.   
“I’ll be fine, Chris.”

“Wait a minute, I got a few more things; uh, don’t be afraid to play the dumb con card.   
Say ‘I don’t know’ just like a little kid, it works.  But don’t overplay the head injury  
thing.  If the sharks smell blood in the water they’ll come to dinner.  And just stay the  
hell away from Schillinger.  And O’Reily.  And especially Beecher …”

“Mr. Keller,” Fuller sighed.

“You’re gonna get an ace for his arm, right?”

“I’ve got an agent picking one up now.  He should be back by the time Elliot gets down  
to the van.  They can wrap it on the way before they put on his shackles.”

“All right, just one more thing,” Chris said as he took Elliot firmly by the shoulders and  
turned him until they were face to face.  “No one is gonna believe you took a beating  
from the FBI and got out of it without a mark on you.” 

He tightened his grip even further then head butted Elliot hard enough that they both  
went to their knees.  As expected, Fuller was on him immediately and the guard from the  
hall joined in an instant later.  Dropping to the floor and curling into a ball, Chris covered  
his head to ride it out.

“Stop it!” Elliot shouted when he recovered enough to grab the guard and pull him off.   
“Fuller, stop.”

Chris stayed huddled until the men moved away from him but as he unfolded another  
agent came charging into the room ready for a fight.  Panting for breath, Fuller held up a  
hand and motioned the newcomer back.

“You okay?” Elliot asked as he knelt down, holding his own aching head with one hand  
while reaching for Chris with the other.

“Ow.”

“You could have warned me.”

“They wouldn’t have let me.  Besides, it hurts less when you’re not waiting for it.”

“You think so?” Elliot asked dubiously.

“Maybe not.  At least we’ll have matching bruises.”

Elliot laughed and helped Chris get up.  “Gee, thanks.”

“Are you okay, Detective?” Fuller asked worriedly.  “Do you need a doctor?”

“No, but by the time we get there it’ll look like I might have needed one.  That’s got to be  
the hardest damned head on the planet,” he added as he pointed to Chris.

“Second hardest,” Chris disputed as he rubbed his own forehead and opened and closed  
his jaw experimentally.

“That’s good,” Fuller sighed in relief.  “We can keep our timetable.”

The brothers shared a look, realizing how much more concerned about his operation  
Fuller was than he was about them.

“Later,” Chris said, surprised when Elliot moved in for a quick hug.  He closed his eyes  
and held on for a minute, but let go as Elliot pulled away.

“Don’t worry,” Elliot grinned.  “I’ll be a model prisoner.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what worries me,” Chris rebuked seriously.  “Remember, it’s okay  
to say fuck every once in awhile.  In fact it’s fucking mandatory.”

Elliot waved as he let Fuller guide him out the door.  The extra agent gathered the file  
folders from the table then trotted to catch up with his boss, but the hall guard took a  
moment to stare angrily at Chris before closing the door.

“Later,” Chris repeated, looking toward the mirror.

***

“That was quite a show,” Taylor replied as they exited the hall into the viewing area.

“Fuck you,” Elliot muttered with a smirk as he kept on walking.

“You’re learning,” Taylor approved as he fell in behind him.  “What a great role model  
your brother turned out to be after all.”

“Does he have to come along for the ride?” Elliot asked Fuller as they made their way  
down the stairs. 

“He checked Keller out.  For continuity it would be best if he checked you back in,”  
Fuller explained.  “Look at it this way, if he’s with you, you know he’s not here harassing  
Keller.”

“What if he blows the operation on purpose?”

Taylor grabbed Elliot by the collar from behind causing them both to stumble slightly on  
the steps.  “Despite what you think, Detective, I am a professional.  I’m not going to  
compromise the operation just because you can’t see reason.”

“Easy,” Elliot warned.

Releasing him, Taylor smoothed the back of the jumpsuit.  “I will not endanger you.   
Besides, I know Keller and I’m certain he’s been a very bad boy.  You’ll bring me  
something whether you want to or not.”  He pushed past Elliot and continued down to the  
ground floor, barking at Johansson to get the van as he disappeared out the door.

“He is a good man,” Fuller insisted.  “I’d stake my reputation on it.”

Elliot glanced back up the stairs.  “You may be staking more than that,” he replied.

Fuller followed his gaze then smiled and offered his hand.  “Good luck, Elliot.  Don’t  
drop the soap.”


	8. part 8

Beecher slumped in his seat at the end of the first crooked row of chairs in front of the  
TV only half-listening to the news.  Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement and  
shifted his gaze to see Rebadow nervously sidling up to him.  “What?” he asked with a  
flicker of interest, tugging his headphones aside. 

Instincts honed through decades of incarceration, the old man had a distinct talent for  
always knowing what was going on inside the walls of Oz.  And he was usually eager to  
pass his knowledge on, within reason.  Rebadow inclined his head and moved over to  
stand by the stairs. 

Suddenly apprehensive, Toby quickly followed.  “It’s Chris, isn’t it?”

“Keller’s out,” Rebadow reported earnestly, practically busting at the seams to share his  
information.

“He can’t be of the hole,” Toby argued.  “He’s still got two weeks to go.”

“No, no, no, not the hole … well, yes that, too.  He’s completely out.  The FBI came in  
the middle of the night and spirited him away.”

Toby gasped involuntarily then forced himself to try to look calm when the nearest of his  
fellow inmates turned to stare at him inquisitively.  “Are you sure?” he whispered.

“Beecher,” Rebadow admonished gently.

“Do you know why?”

Rebadow shook his head and shrugged as he moved away.

Before Toby could even begin to think, Ryan O’Reily appeared at his elbow.  “The Feds  
have Keller?”

“Yeah,” Toby breathed.  The wheels in his head obviously already spinning, Ryan headed  
for the phones but Toby clamped a hand to his arm.  “You’d tell me if you found out  
anything, wouldn’t you?”

“You’d be the first to know,” Ryan swore, his mask of indifference firmly in place as he  
slipped out of Toby’s grasp and sauntered away.

Toby leaned against the stair rail and sighed, knowing in his gut that O’Reily wouldn’t  
tell him anything.  Even though he’d been on the outside of Chris and Ryan’s most recent  
and most deadly partnership he completely understood how Ryan might be a little tense  
while the FBI questioned Keller.  He was a little tense himself, but for different reasons.   
He tried to swallow the lump of worry that threatened to choke him and hated himself for  
caring so much. 

***

Olivia found the place easily enough; after all, Elliot always gave very precise directions.   
Getting in the gate however, proved to be a lot harder than she could have imagined.   
Starting with a phone call to Captain Cragen, then a fingerprint check to confirm her  
identity, and ending with the signing of a federal non-disclosure statement, she half  
expected to be asked for DNA before she entered the house. 

Now cooling her heels in a big, empty room she held her partner’s gym bag in one hand  
and a paper sack with a subtle aroma that was making her empty stomach gurgle in  
anticipation in the other.  Unfortunately, something had come up and she hadn’t been  
able to leave the squadroom as soon as she’d hoped.  Given the forty-five minute drive  
and the time it took to grab the sandwiches from a nearby deli, it was now almost two  
o’clock.  She was getting pretty hungry herself and hoped the Feds had given Elliot’s  
brother something to eat in the meantime. 

She’d spent the morning tracking down and reading everything she could find about the  
convict and had to admit to being a little nervous about meeting him, and a lot intrigued.   
It seemed that between frequent stints in the penitentiary Christopher Keller had found  
time to marry and divorce three different women who by all appearances, at least  
according to the prison visitor logs, were still on good terms and even openly affection  
with him.  One of them had even married him twice. 

And yet the FBI liked him for a string of homosexual rapes and murders.  The thought of  
Elliot’s own flesh and blood as a serial killer didn’t sit well.  Knowing her partner, it was  
bound to be eating him up inside.  So it had actually surprised her when he’d enlisted her  
help to extend an act of kindness to the twin he hadn’t even known about until yesterday.

Working with Elliot so closely for so long Olivia had caught glimpses of his dark side  
and she had no delusions that he could never kill anyone.  If suitably provoked, she was  
sure he could.  No one would ever dispute he had a temper.  But he also had an innate  
goodness that transcended all that, kept him grounded.  Elliot was definitely one of the  
good guys.  What would it take to push him over the edge?  She could only imagine. 

“Detective Benson,” a mild tenor voice broke into her reverie and she turned to see the  
distinguished, slightly graying agent who had been in the captain’s office the day before.   
“Hello, I’m Special Agent Fuller.  I’m so sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Hi,” Olivia greeted and sat the gym bag down to shake his hand.  “No problem.  Is Elliot  
already gone?”

“Oh yes, he’s well on his way,” Fuller replied as he picked up the bag and ushered her  
towards the door and the stairs beyond.  “Oh that smells good. We would have already  
given Mr. Keller lunch but I knew you were coming.”

“In that case I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner,” Olivia said guiltily as they ascended the  
staircase.

“That’s alright; he’s been asleep ever since Elliot left.  But I know he’ll want to wake up  
for your company if not the food.”

“I doubt that.”

“I don’t,” Fuller flirted.  When they reached the top he handed Elliot’s small carryall to  
the agent behind the desk who opened it and began a search, immediately pulling out the  
disposable razor and setting it off to the side.  “I’ll need your gun, of course,” Fuller  
requested politely.  “And anything else that might be used as a weapon.”

“Of course,” Olivia complied and carefully sat the food down on the counter to unsnap  
her holster from her belt.  As a second thought she tugged her belt free as well, letting  
Fuller take possession of them.  The one-way mirror caught her eye and she startled to  
see Elliot asleep on the cot in the corner.  Christopher, she mentally corrected herself,  
noting the facial hair although he was dressed in the clothes her partner had been wearing  
the last time she’d seen him.

“Ma’am,” the female agent said as she finished with the gym bag and picked up the metal  
detector.

Still focusing on the mirror, Olivia held out her arms and was quickly scanned.  When  
she reached for the sandwiches the other woman put her hand on the sack as well.  “I  
need to check this, too.”

“Sure,” Olivia agreed and stepped back while the search continued.  Her gaze once again  
went to Keller.

“I would be glad to accompany you inside,” Fuller offered attentively, mistaking her  
wonder for fear. 

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Olivia assured as she gathered the bags when the second  
agent gave the all clear.

“There will be a guard in the hall and I’ll be watching from here.”

“This isn’t an interrogation.”

“No, it’s just for your safety.  But I do insist.”

Nodding her agreement because he did have a point, Olivia reminded herself that even if  
the man looked like Elliot, he was a convicted murderer and she was going in unarmed.

“Can I bring you some coffee?” Fuller asked as he opened the door for her when the  
buzzer sounded. “Juice?  Milk?”

“Coffee’s fine,” Olivia tried to smile although she was already growing weary of the  
man’s impeccable manners.  “Two, please.”  When Fuller raised an eyebrow she  
shrugged at him.  “I’m just assuming.  That’s what Elliot would want.”

“I guess you know your partner well then,” Fuller winked at her.  “The whole twin  
dynamic is fascinating, isn’t it?  I’ll be right in.”

Frowning when she realized Fuller had wormed his way into the room in spite of her  
wishes, Olivia made her way down the short hallway to another door.  The agent there  
regarded her suspiciously but buzzed her in without a word then stood in the doorway  
protectively as she made her way over to the table.

“I’ll be fine,” Olivia dismissed him quietly as she set down her burdens.

The guard glanced at the unmoving prisoner then backed out of the room and allowed the  
door to close.  Taking a deep breath, Olivia moved to the side of the cot.  Even up close,  
the illusion held.  In another place, with no prior knowledge of the situation, she would  
have sworn under oath that the sleeping man was Elliot Stabler.  As she bent closer to  
study the features she winced at the purple bruise blossoming on the right side of his  
forehead.  Suddenly she found herself staring into eerily familiar blue eyes.

“Sorry,” she muttered, her cheeks flushing slightly as she stepped back.  “I didn’t mean to  
wake you.” 

“Door buzzer,” Keller explained with a yawn before propping himself up on an elbow to  
assess his latest visitor.  A slow, predatory grin spread across his face.  “You must be  
Elliot’s partner.”

“Yeah, hi, I’m Olivia.”

“Nice to meet you, Olivia,” Keller crooned, offering his hand as he swung his feet off the  
cot and sat up.  “I’m Chris.”

“Chris,” Olivia echoed as she gripped his hand in a firm shake. 

Seemingly amused, Chris brought her fingers to his mouth and brushed them against his  
lips in a whisper of a kiss, never losing eye contact.  He reluctantly released her hand  
when the door buzzed again and Fuller bustled into the room balancing three cups of  
coffee.  Keller shot the agent an annoyed look but Fuller was oblivious as he deposited  
the cups on the table and pulled a chair out for Olivia.

“Detective Benson brought you lunch,” Fuller exclaimed, waving Keller over as he  
moved the carryall to the floor.

“Yeah?” Chris asked eagerly as he got up and stretched before following Olivia to the  
table.

“I brought a roast beef and Swiss and a pastrami,” Olivia said as she opened the paper  
bag and sorted out the sandwiches.

“Let me guess,” Fuller grinned at her.  “Those are Elliot’s favorites.”

“Are they?” Chris asked in surprise as he settled in the chair across from Olivia, leaving  
Fuller standing.

Olivia nodded and smiled when Chris picked up one of the coffee cups and took a  
cautious sip.  “Yeah.  Which one would you like?” she asked as she began to unwrap  
them.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Chris shrugged as he rubbed his belly in anticipation.  “Both are  
a treat.  You chose.”

“How about half of each?” Olivia proposed.  “We do that a lot.  Me and Elliot.”

“Sure,” Chris agreed readily, pulling one of the unwrapped sandwiches over and trading  
half with Olivia.  “This is great.  I’m starved.”  He took a big bite of the pastrami half,  
making appreciative sounds as he chewed.  “Elliot get off okay?” he asked Fuller when  
he swallowed.

“Everything’s going according to plan,” Fuller promised as he hovered at Olivia’s side on  
the pretense of drinking his coffee.

Self-conscious of all the attention, Olivia took a bite. 

Keller, too, openly studied her as he wolfed his food down.  “You’re not what I  
expected,” he said as he polished off the first half of his mixed sandwich, wiping his  
fingers on a napkin Fuller produced from the bag.

“No?  What did Elliot say about me?”

“He said not to call you a girl and that if I got out of line you’d kick my ass.”

Olivia laughed.  “That sounds like something he’d say.  So what were you expecting?”

“Angie Dickinson,” Chris quipped, the seductive grin back in place.

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

“Oh, I’m not disappointed, believe me.”

“I rather liked Angie Dickinson,” Fuller piped in, earning a set of hard stares.

“Don’t you have something else to do?” Keller asked as he started in on the rest of his  
lunch.

“Actually, no.  I’m yours for the afternoon.”

Chris exchanged an aggravated look with Olivia that was so well-known to her she  
choked slightly as she began to laugh.

“What?”

“This is so surreal,” Olivia said, shaking her head.  “I just can’t believe there are actually  
two of you.”


	9. part 9

“Sit,” Taylor ordered as he pushed Elliot towards the bench in receiving, causing him to  
stumble.  In spite of the shackles that linked his ankles to his cuffed wrists Elliot’s quick  
reflexes helped him recover but he glared at Taylor as if he’d hit the deck anyway.

As Elliot sat, the hack in charge took one look at his bruised face and picked up the  
phone.  “Keller’s back,” he reported.  “You’d better get the warden down here though, he  
looks pretty beat up.”

“You got something for me to sign?” Taylor asked.  “We’ve got places to be,” he added,  
including Johansson who lingered quietly by the door holding an oversized envelope with  
the name Keller written on it.

“Oh hell, no,” the guard refused.  “You don’t go nowhere ‘til the warden gets here.  He’s  
in a meeting right now so you might as well get comfortable.”

Taylor sighed and sauntered over to sit by Elliot, making a show of slapping him on the  
shoulder jauntily.  “Looks like you get the pleasure of my company a little longer.”

“Fuck off,” Elliot growled at him, twisting out from under his hand and sliding down the  
bench.

“Now Chris, don’t be that way,” Taylor goaded, certain the anger wasn’t entirely part of  
the act and loving it.

Twenty minutes later the inside gate opened and Warden Glynn unhurriedly entered the  
area.  “What’d I tell you, Taylor?” He asked as he stopped to get a good look at the mark  
above the prisoner’s right eye.  “I said if you didn’t bring him back in one piece I’d have  
your ass.”

“He’s in one piece,” Taylor defended himself casually.

“But not uninjured.  What happened?”

“He fell.”

“Keller?” Glynn asked.

“I fell,” Elliot confirmed in a blasé monotone. 

“You fell or someone ‘helped’ you fall?  Don’t worry about this prick, you can tell me  
the truth.”

“I tripped on the shackles this morning,” Elliot insisted.  “But it’s not like anybody tried  
to catch me.”

“Take him to the infirmary,” Glynn ordered the guard who obediently bent to unlock  
Elliot’s chains.

“He was already seen at the hospital,” Taylor supplied, snapping his fingers at Johansson  
who stepped forward to hand him the fabricated medical records.  “Everything you need  
to know is right here.  He’s got a mild concussion with a little memory loss, but they said  
that’s only temporary.  He’ll be fine in a couple days.”

“Infirmary,” Glynn told the hack again before turning to Taylor.  “Sign the paper and get  
the hell out of my prison.”

“He’s already been medically cleared,” Taylor pushed the paper package into Elliot’s  
newly freed arms as he got up.  “Just send him back to his cellblock.”

“Around here, I give the orders,” Glynn yelled as he stormed over to the counter to grab  
the clipboard and shove it under Taylor’s nose himself.

“Keller …” Taylor warned under his breath, latching onto his sleeve to keep him in place.

Elliot leaned forward and whispered into his ear.  “You either trust me to do this or you  
don’t.  I’ll handle it.”

Taylor hesitated briefly then let him go, watching as Elliot joined the guard by the gate  
that led deeper into Oz.  Hastily scratching his name on the form Glynn held out to him,  
he collected Johansson and headed the other way, back to the real world.

“Think about me,” Elliot called after him with mock affection.

“I always do,” Taylor muttered without slowing down.

“What did you say to him?” Glynn asked as he handed the clipboard back to the receiving  
officer, following Elliot when the gate opened.

“I told him to have a nice day,” Elliot lied, holding back a shudder at the sound of the  
iron bars clanking shut behind him.

***

Having finished his own lunch and a good portion of Olivia’s, Chris eased back in his  
chair and chatted her up, ignoring Fuller to the best of his ability.  “Tell me about my  
nieces and nephew,” he requested.

“Ah, I don’t want to overstep my boundaries here,” Olivia hedged.  “Maybe Elliot should  
do that.”

Chris scratched his chin thoughtfully and sighed.  “You’re probably right,” he agreed.  “I  
don’t want to cause any trouble.  It’s not like I’ll ever get to meet them anyway.”

“Elliot would probably bring them up some time if you wanted to get to know them.   
They’re great kids.”

“I’m sure they are.  But maybe they’re better off not knowing their Uncle Chris the  
jailbird,” he pondered philosophically, covertly checking Olivia’s response.  “They’ve  
got other aunts and uncles, right?”

“It’s a big family,” Olivia confirmed, not quite falling for the ‘poor, poor, pitiful me’  
routine.

“That’s good,” Chris nodded, carefully gauging the lack of sympathy, chalking it up as a  
lost cause and moving on to a new topic.  “So, tell me about you and Elliot then.”

“Not much to tell.  We work a lot so we’re together almost all the time.”

“You get along?”

“Most of the time, but not always,” Olivia conceded honestly.  “Don’t get me wrong,  
Elliot’s the best.  He’s a great partner, hard working, loyal; I never have to worry whether  
he has my back or not.  But he gets a little overprotective at times when he just won’t  
accept the fact that I can take care of myself,” she added with an annoyed glance at  
Fuller.

“They say cops being partners is like being married, even when it’s two guys,” Chris led  
her, eliciting a head nod of agreement.  “You two ever … you know, do the horizontal  
cha-cha?”

“Keller,” Fuller butted in with a disgusted groan.  “At least try to behave.”

“No offense,” Chris offered.  “I understand if you don’t want to talk about it.”

“We don’t fool around.  Elliot’s the most married man I ever met,” Olivia informed him  
matter-of-factly.  “Just because a man and woman work together doesn’t automatically  
mean they’re sleeping together.  Only a shallow minded, chauvinistic …” she stopped  
mid-rant and assessed the amused expression of the man across from her.  “Why did you  
do that?”

“Do what?”

“Push my buttons.”

Chris pursed his lips for a minute as he thought then smiled again wryly.  “I don’t know,”  
he shrugged.  “To see if I could?”

The door buzzed and the guard stuck his head into the room.  “Taylor needs to talk to you  
right away,” he told Fuller.

 “I have to take this call,” Fuller announced, fully expecting Olivia to follow him to the  
door.

“So take it,” Olivia retorted, not getting up.

“I’m not leaving you in here alone.”

“I’m not alone.  Chris is here.”

Fuller frowned as he looked at Keller.  “That really is my point.”

“What exactly do you think I’m gonna do in front of your cameras?” Chris complained.   
“The guard is one scream away and according to Elliot, I would be the one doing the  
screaming anyway.”

“I realize you’re just trying to cover your ass, Agent Fuller.  But I assure you I can handle  
myself with a perp, even unarmed.”

With an exasperated harrumph Fuller held up a finger and backed toward the door.   
“Fine, but if anything untoward happens while I’m out of the room the FBI will not take  
responsibility,” he warned then stepped out into the hall with the guard.

“I thought he’d never leave,” Chris commented, turning a mischievous grin on her.  “But  
you didn’t leave.  I must be forgiven then?”

“I suppose, just don’t do it again.  I’m on to you now,” Olivia warned.  She tried not to  
return the smile but Chris was obviously so pleased with himself she couldn’t help it.  He  
reminded her of a naughty schoolboy who got away with looking up the teacher’s dress.   
She wondered if Elliot ever grinned that way.

“Lunch was really nice.  What else did you bring me?”

“Elliot asked for the stuff out of his locker,” Olivia explained as she picked up the  
carryall and set it on the table to open it.  “Let’s see, we have soap, shampoo, a towel,  
clean tee-shirt and sweatpants, shaving cream, although they confiscated the razor.”

“Damn.  I really need a shave, too.” Chris got up and began to gather the toiletries in his  
arms as Olivia unloaded them from the bag. 

“There’s also some deodorant, aftershave, toothpaste, and a toothbrush.  Can you think of  
anything else you might need?”

“No, this is great.”  Chris went into the bathroom and unceremoniously dumped the items  
into the sink of the sterile looking white bathroom.

“Oh, no shower curtain,” Olivia noted as she followed him to the door.

“Yeah, that would block the piss-cam,” Chris pointed out as he turned to the tub and  
opened both taps.  “It’s not a problem though.  I can’t remember the last time I had a real  
bath.”

“All you need is some Mister Bubble,” Olivia teased.

Chris grinned up at her as he adjusted the water temperature then set the plug.  When he  
rose to his feet he smoothly stripped out of Elliot’s sweatshirt and tossed it onto the back  
of the toilet.  He had several knuckle shaped bruises coming up along his back which he  
took a moment to check out by looking over his shoulder into the metal mirror above the  
sink.

Olivia noticed the marks but since Chris didn’t make a big deal out of them she didn’t  
ask.  She remained impassive and even surreptitiously checked out his six-pack, but  
balked when he opened his pants.  “I’ll go,” she offered.

“Am I embarrassing you?” Chris asked, pretending to be concerned for her even as he  
metaphorically threw down the gauntlet. 

“No,” Olivia denied.  She clearly read the challenge and vowed not to choke, although  
the small room was beginning to feel a little warm, what with the steam rising from the  
tub and all.  “I just thought you might like some privacy.”

“Privacy?” Chris scoffed, peeking up at the security camera.  “What’s that?”

“Right,” Olivia agreed nervously as he stepped out of the jeans making a half-assed  
attempt to fold them before he laid them on the closed toilet lid.  His underwear quickly  
followed and he made no move to cover himself as he dawdled at the sink picking out the  
soap and shampoo.

“I wonder if they’ll let me have the razor later under supervision?” he asked casually as if  
he weren’t completely exposed to a woman he’d just met.  He took another minute to  
examine his own reflection in the mirror before seeking out Olivia’s eyes.  “Do you think  
Elliot is attractive?”

“You’re fishing,” Olivia accused, trying in vain to keep her gaze eye level.

“You’re too smart for me,” Chris smirked, fully aware of the difficulty she was having.   
He milked the situation further by offhandedly stroking his fingers lightly down one  
magnificently formed butt cheek, drawing her stare down with his hand.  “So you don’t  
think he’s good-looking at all?”

“Of course I do,” Olivia gave in with a sigh, jerking her head back up when she realized  
she was gawking at his ass.  “What woman wouldn’t?”

“Have you ever seen him in the buff?”

“No.”

“Here’s your chance.”

“I have no desire to see Elliot naked,” Olivia denied, forcing herself to relax as Chris  
shamelessly turned around to face her. 

“You know you want to.  Come on,” he breathed seductively, “Be honest.  What do you  
think?”

Olivia swallowed then boldly allowed her gaze to wander briefly before returning to his  
face.  “Very nice,” she remarked, determined not to let him win.

“Thanks,” Chris said as he brushed by her closer than was necessary but without actually  
touching her.  He stepped over the side of the tub, hissing at the hot water that already  
reached mid-calf.

Olivia flinched at the smell of body odor but choose to ignore the heat rolling off his skin.   
“Careful,” she taunted as he gingerly settled in.  “You wouldn’t want to burn the boys.”

“I like you, Olivia.” Chris sighed contentedly, leaning his head back and bending his  
knees up enough to let the still running water rise over his chest.  “You don’t take any  
shit.  Tell the truth, you bust Elliot’s balls all the time.”

“Not all the time.”  Olivia knocked the dirty underwear to the floor before refolding the  
jeans and sitting on the closed lid holding them in her lap.  “I haven’t decided if I like you  
or not.”

“You haven’t left yet, either.”

“No, I guess I haven’t.”


	10. part 10

 

“Doctor Nathan,” the guard called as they entered the infirmary.  “The warden wants you  
to have a look at Keller.”

Elliot glanced around but didn’t see any faces he thought he should know even though  
almost every eye in the place was on him, with the exception of the two closest patients  
who were either asleep or in comas.  Of the other three inmates scattered around the large  
room two were propped up in bed and one sat on a bedside commode in full view of  
everyone else, all passed the time perusing various nudie magazines.  Two correctional  
officers looked somewhat bored as they stood together talking quietly at the far end of the  
room as another inmate pushed a mop bucket by them on his way out.

“What’s up?” an attractive Latino woman asked as she appeared out of a glass and wire  
office.  “Oh, Keller,” she exclaimed when she saw him.  “What happened to you this  
time?”

“Hi, Doc,” Elliot greeted since she seemed to be on familiar terms with him, although  
Chris hadn’t mentioned anything about a woman doctor.  “I’m okay.”

“Let me be the judge of that,” the doctor insisted, already pulling out a penlight as she  
advanced on him.  “Did you lose consciousness?” she asked, checking his pupils.

“I don’t know, I don’t really remember,” Elliot fed her the scripted line as he handed over  
the packet of phony doctor’s notes and head films, “Maybe for a minute or two.”

Nathan made disapproving clucking noises as she took the envelope to the nearest light-  
box and began to pull out the films and hold them up one by one.  “It looks like they did a  
head CT.”

“That’s the X-ray machine where the table goes through the tunnel?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“That was cool.”

“I’m outta here, Doctor Nathan,” the hack interrupted as he turned to go.  “Hey Keller, I  
think you’ve still got clothes in the locker at Ad Seg.  I’ll see about sending them over.”

“Thanks, I’d appreciate that,” Elliot replied, earning a double take from the CO before he  
left.

After taking a moment to review all the films, Doctor Nathan went to a cabinet and  
pulled out a hospital gown. “You know the drill, put this on.”

“Why?” Elliot asked.  “I’ve already been poked and prodded all morning.”

“Because the warden said so,” Nathan replied adamantly. “And because I’m responsible  
for you now and I want to check you out myself.”

“Where?” Elliot asked with a resigned sigh as he glanced around for a partition or  
curtained off area. 

Nathan looked at him strangely then waved a hand at the ward.  “Pick a bed.  I’ll be with  
you in a minute.”  She gathered his chart and took it to the office to read while he  
changed.

Since the FBI hadn’t taken an infirmary visit into consideration Elliot was suddenly glad  
his brother was such a talented con man and had insisted he cover his Marine tat.  Elliot  
feigned nonchalance he didn’t feel and remembered to strut over to the first bed, not  
because it was closest but because there was no one in the bed next to it.  Everyone who  
was awake watched him as he unzipped the jumpsuit. 

“Fucking perverts,” he complained as he kicked off Chris’ boots. 

“What’s a matter, Keller?  You go and get all shy on us?” a burly, heavily tattooed  
inmate jeered from further down the row and across the aisle.  “We just want to see what  
the Feds did to ya.”

Elliot stripped off the top of the jumpsuit and did a slow three-sixty to show off his  
unmarked chest and back.  “Sorry, asshole, they didn’t touch me.”

The other man huffed in disappointment then went back to his skin mag.  The hacks lost  
interest as well as did the man on the toilet who made a production of wiping his ass.   
However the small, effeminate man two beds down still stared at him in rapt attention.

“Do you mind?” Elliot asked irritably.

“Not at all,” the man gushed, his face lighting up as Elliot bit the bullet and stepped out  
of the jumpsuit.

Thankful the bed was at the right height to hide his missing tattoo if not completely cover  
his manhood, Elliot picked up the gown and slipped it on properly with the slit in back.   
“Do I know you?” he asked just to make sure his bases were covered.

“Not yet, but I have high hopes.”

“Easy there, Cupcake.” One of the hacks unexpectedly entered the conversation.   
“Keller’s out of your league.  Way, way out of your league.  He’d have you for  
breakfast.”

“Promises, promises,” the smaller man purred.  “Keller, huh?”

“Gerald, at least wait for the stitches to come out before trying to make another date,”  
Nathan lectured as she reentered the room.  “Hop up there,” she told Elliot.

Tugging the back of his gown together, much to Gerald’s dismay, Elliot climbed onto the  
bed to sit with his legs hanging over the side facing the doctor.

“How do you feel?” Nathan asked as she placed her stethoscope over his heart.

“Headache,” Elliot admitted truthfully after a brief pause to let her finish listening.  “Not  
too bad.”

Nathan nodded and removed the earpieces from her ears leaving the stethoscope dangling  
from her neck then reached for his arm.  “What about your elbow?”

Elliot shrugged.  “It’s fine.”  He pulled away when she tried to unwrap the ace.  “It’s fine  
now but if you start messing with it it’s just going to hurt again.”

“Don’t be a baby.  I need to look at it.”

“It’s just a little hema … hema …”

“Hematoma?”

“Yeah.  The doctor said to leave it wrapped tight for the next twenty-four hours.”

“And you always do what the doctor says,” Nathan harrumphed as if she knew better.   
“Can you tell me what happened?”

“Not really.”

“Your chart says you fell, but I don’t think so.  I’d expect to at least see some abrasions  
on your chin and nose and maybe even a split lip if you really hit the sidewalk face first.   
The bruising is so clean it looks more like someone hit you with something.”

“I don’t remember.”

“Hmmm.  What’s your prisoner ID number?”

“98K514,” Elliot recalled without hesitation.

“Who’s the President?”

“Doctor Nathan,” Elliot sighed.  “I already played this game today.  I know who the  
President is, but I can’t tell you what I don’t remember.  And I don’t remember what  
happened.”

“Is that the only thing you’re fuzzy on?”

“No.  I’m having a little trouble with faces and names, too.  But that’s all.  Otherwise,  
I’m fine.”

“Oh come on, Keller, something is obviously not right with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t quite put my finger on it; you’re just not acting like you.” Nathan narrowed her  
eyes as she studied him.  “You’re jumpy and nervous and where’s all your usual brash  
charisma?  If you don’t flirt with me soon I’m going to think you’re mad at me.  I think  
something happened that you’re just not willing to talk about.”

Elliot sniffed and glanced over his shoulder noting Gerald was still ogling him.  “You’re  
imagining things.”

“I don’t think so,” Nathan disagreed, catching him by the chin and forcing him to look at  
her.  “If they did something to you, you need to tell me.  Will you open up to me if we  
can talk in private?”

“You’re not afraid to be alone with me?”

Nathan looked genuinely surprised.  “You’ve never given me any reason to be scared of  
you.  You’ve always been a gentleman, in your own way.”

“There’s really nothing to tell,” Elliot persisted.  He was actually relieved to find out his  
brother wasn’t a total cad in spite of his propensity to screw with nuns, figuratively  
speaking.  “I’d just like to go to my pod and lie down.”

“Hey Keller,” another hack called out as he entered the room.  “Here’s your stuff.  For  
the record I ain’t your fuckin’ valet.”  He dropped the work pants, a pair of holey socks,  
and a white wifebeater onto the bed and wandered over to his fellow COs to shoot the  
breeze.

Elliot ignored him which seemed to be the expected response as no one batted an eye.   
“Can’t I just get some Tylenol and go back to Em City?” he requested.

“We’ll see,” Nathan said doubtfully.  “Lean forward and let me listen to your lungs.”  As  
Elliot complied she loosened the gown then warmed the bell of her stethoscope before  
placing it on his bare back, moving it every few breathes.  “Okay, get dressed and we’ll  
talk about what to do with you,” she allowed as she stepped back. 

When Elliot got off the bed and turned away to reach for his pants she stopped, reaching  
out to touch his lower back with her hand.  She sucked in an involuntary breath then  
glared at him for a second before averting her eyes.

“What?” Elliot asked, taken aback by her sudden change in demeanor.

“Get dressed and come this way,” she ordered quietly as she backed away then  
practically bolted through a set of double doors.

By slipping the pants on under the gown, Elliot managed to keep his thigh hidden and his  
pride intact.  But the only one still paying any attention to him was Gerald who blew him  
a kiss with a little fingertip wave.  Elliot smirked and shook his head at the bizarre but  
harmless flirting.  Forgoing the holey socks he pulled on the boots then tossed the gown  
to the bed and slipped the undershirt over his head as he followed the obviously spooked  
doctor.  When he spotted her in a doorway just down a short hall she looked up at him  
grimly and stepped inside.  He couldn’t imagine what he might have said or done to set  
off the odd behavior so he entered the small examination room slowly, more than a little  
apprehensive.

Standing on the other side of the exam table, Nathan stared at him like he had grown  
another head.  “Close it,” she said.  As soon as the door was shut she took a deep breath  
and calmly inquired, “Who the hell are you?”

“What?”

“You want to play it that way?  Fine.  I think I’ll order a DNA test,” Nathan challenged,  
barely keeping the anger out of her voice.

Elliot leaned against the doorframe and shrugged.  “Go ahead.  It’s just a needle stick,  
right?”

“Unwrap your arm,” she demanded.

“Why?”

“Just do it or I’ll call a CO to do it for you.”

Taking a gamble that the doctor had so many patients with tattoos she wouldn’t be able to  
keep them all straight, Elliot unhooked the little metal clips and slowly unwound the ace.   
Nathan came around the table and stood in front of him.  As the ink came into view the  
look of confusion on her face turned into amazement then fear and Elliot knew he’d lost  
that bet.

“Are you into body art or something?” Elliot asked without actually acknowledging  
anything.  “I know you can’t recognize every prisoner by their tats.”

“No, but I know Keller.  I fought hard to save his life when he was stabbed in the back.   
He spent weeks in here recovering, the whole time trying to charm the pants off every  
female in sight no matter how bad he felt.”

“What tipped you off?” Elliot asked, finally conceding he had been compromised.

“You are a remarkable facsimile, but you don’t have any scars from the stabbing.”

“The devil is in the details.  We weren’t anticipating a physical; we thought the medical  
records would cover it.”

“Any other doctor probably wouldn’t have noticed,” Nathan admitted.  “But I’ve always  
had a soft spot for Chris.  Is he okay?”

“Yeah, I give you my word, he’s fine.  He’ll be back in Oz before he wants to be, that’s  
for sure.”

“How is this possible?” Nathan asked, reaching out to touch Elliot’s face but then pulling  
back at the last minute.

Elliot smirked.  “We’ll never know for sure but I suspect it all started in the backseat of a  
car somewhere, or maybe a seedy motel room.”

“Twins,” Nathan surmised.  “No wonder you didn’t balk at a DNA test.”

“I know how it works; the state never would have let you run one.  It costs too much.”

“So, you’re an FBI agent?”

“No, but I am a cop.  Look, this has nothing to do with Chris so you don’t have to worry  
about that.  I should be able to do what I came here for and be out of here by tomorrow  
afternoon.  But if you tell anyone about me, and I mean anybody, you’ll probably get me  
killed.”

“I have to tell the warden something.”

“Tell him I have a head injury and you sent me back to Em City to rest.”

Nathan looked around desperately, unsure of what to do.  “How do I know you’re not up  
to something illegal like an assassination or something?”

“You’re going to have to trust me, just like I’m going to trust you.  My life is in your  
hands, Doctor.  Please, do the right thing.”

Releasing a pent up breath, Nathan rubbed her hands down the front of her lab coat.   
“You want something for your headache?  I’m assuming of course that the bruise is real.”

“It is.  Tylenol would be great.”

“So what happened?” Nathan asked, indicating his forehead as she unlocked the medicine  
cabinet and pulled out a large bottle of pills. 

“Chris head-butted me,” Elliot explained, holding out his hand as she shook out three  
tablets.  “He didn’t think I looked like I could have a head injury.”

Nathan smiled, but it faded fast.  “Do you even know what you’re getting in to?”

“No idea,” Elliot retorted as he popped the pills into his mouth and dry swallowed them.

“I’ll have a guard take you to Em City,” Nathan finally agreed.  “What should I call  
you?”

“Call me Keller.”

“Okay.  Good luck, Keller.  Please don’t show up in my infirmary bleeding.”

“I’ll do my best.”

***

_There are broad distinctions within the Gemini character. Inseparable as two sides of a_   
_coin, those born in this sign can be dazzling and irresistible or inconstant and irrational._   
_But one thing is certain; Gemini are seldom what they seem to be._   
_\---Augustus Hill_

  
“So how’s the newest project coming?” Beecher asked Busmalis as he studied his cards,  
well aware his next door neighbor had started a new tunnel.

“Shhh,” Rebadow cautioned, glancing around to see if anyone was listening.  “Don’t talk  
about it, it’ll jinx it.”

“I’m having trouble with a pipe, actually,” Busmalis replied, ignoring his podmate’s  
warning.  “How many cards would you like?”

“Just one,” Beecher said.

“I fold,” Rebadow responded unhappily.

“Dealer takes two.”

“Beecher,” Hill interrupted the three-handed poker game as he rolled his wheelchair up to  
the table, tipping his chin toward the gate.

Toby looked up and sighed in relief when he saw Keller saunter inside, apparently  
unharmed except for a nasty bruise on his forehead and a bandage below his right elbow.   
He quickly hid the grin that threatened to surface and looked down at his cards, knowing  
without a doubt Chris would be headed in his direction.

“Keller, you survive your little vacation with the FBI?” Pancamo greeted from the next  
table as Chris passed through.

“Ah, fuckin’ Feds,” Chris replied with a dismissive wave as he continued to walk.  “What  
a bunch of amateurs.  Huh?”

The big Italian laughed his agreement and Keller made a beeline for the stairs without so  
much as a glance in Beecher’s direction.

Hill raised an eyebrow as Toby threw his hand down.  “I’m out.”

“Why’d you fold?  You had two pair,” Busmalis pointed out as he turned the discarded  
pile face up.

“Leave him alone.  He’s got other things on his mind,” Rebadow chimed in. 

Sparing a scowl for both of them, Toby got to his feet and followed in Chris’ path.

“Real subtle, Beecher,” Hill called after him as he gathered the cards.  “Anybody wanna  
play gin?”

Toby ignored the jibe but made an effort not to take the stairs two at a time.  As he  
reached the top Keller was just disappearing into his pod.  He progressively quickened  
his pace and practically ran the last few steps to the door of the cell.  Chris spun on him  
in surprise with his fists clenched as he crouched slightly in a defensive posture.

“It’s just me,” Toby soothed, holding out his hands to show that they were empty.

“What the fuck, Toby?” Chris sighed, not sounding all that relieved but making an  
obvious attempt to relax. 

“I don’t want to fight.  I just came to see if you’re okay.”

Chris kicked off his boots and wandered over to the small locker to dig out a pair of  
socks.  “Two days without socks, I think I got a blister,” he replied as he sat on the  
bottom bunk and put them on, wiggling the little toe that stuck out the hole in the left one.

“What did they do to you?” Beecher asked anxiously as he did a quick visual inspection  
looking for further damage.

“Aw, you know.  Same shit, different day,” Chris shrugged, lying back on the bed and  
draping his uninjured arm across eyes. 

“Somebody hit you.”

“Yeah.  I don’t really remember, though.  So who’s my new roommate?”

“Oh, ah, some freak named Dwayne Halstead.” 

“Dwayne?  You’re kidding me,” Chris peeked out from under his arm.  “Dwayne?  Not  
another damned pedophile I hope.”

“No, he’s in for first degree murder.  At least that’s what he’s claiming.  He’s never been  
in before so I think that’s just what he’s telling everybody to establish a rep.”

“Oh, joy,” Chris replied as he covered his eyes again. While not exactly unfriendly, his  
usual passion of love or hate, whichever he happened to be feeling at any given moment,  
was absent. 

“I know you didn’t kill Fletcher,” Toby rambled, grateful for a chance to carry on a civil  
conversation with him no matter how distant he seemed.  “I told McManus it wasn’t  
you.”

“They didn’t really suspect me anyway.” 

Toby hung around the door even after Chris stopped talking and appeared to be drifting  
off to sleep.  “I washed your bedding,” Toby said to rouse him.  “And your clothes.   
There was blood everywhere.”

Suddenly Chris was looking at him again, not quite suspiciously but certainly with his  
guard up.  “Why’d you do that?”

“I didn’t think anybody else would.”

After an uncomfortable pause Chris cleared his throat.  “Thanks.”

Toby fidgeted for a minute.  “Are you really okay?” he finally blurted out. 

“Sure.  You know me.”

“You must be Keller,” an ugly, middle-aged man with a fake New Jersey accent replied  
as he appeared in the door behind Toby.

“And you must be Dwayne,” Chris drawled distractedly, reaching up to play with a string  
hanging from the mattress above him.

“You can call me Stone.”

“How do you get Stone out of Halstead?” Beecher asked as he stepped out of the way.

“That’s just my prison nickname.”

“You been here what?  Two weeks?  How’d you get a name already?” Chris laughed.   
“Cause you sure as hell look like fresh fish to me.”

“Look, I heard stories about you,” Dwayne said, sounding defensive and more than a  
little scared.  “I heard you got a temper.”

“Nah, I don’t have a temper.  Do I have a temper, Beecher?”

Toby huffed as he moved even further into the pod to get away from Dwayne who was  
starting to sweat.  “Temper?  No, not you, Chris.”

“I just wanna say if we’re gonna be bunkmates I don’t want no trouble,” Dwayne  
explained nervously.  “You know, I heard … things.”

“Things.  Well just don’t test me and we won’t have a problem.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dwayne agreed nodding his head fervently.  “I’ll just stay outta your hair.”

“You do that,” Chris said, seemingly still fascinated with the string.

“Dinner!” a hack shouted from somewhere down below. 

“See ya,” Dwayne muttered, making a break for it.

Toby grinned maniacally. “Bye-bye, Stone.”

“Later, Dwayne,” Chris replied softly without even glancing at the retreating man.

“Do you want to get something to eat?” Toby asked, turning to Chris.  “We could sit  
together,” he added hopefully. 

“You go, I just wanna rest.”

Toby frowned and took a really good look at his former podmate.  Being out of Oz had  
obviously done Chris some good as he had a more color than usual but overall he  
appeared a little shaky. 

“Yeah, you rest,” Toby advised uneasily before walking out, still not sure if he’d been  
dismissed or if Chris was hurt worse than he let on.  Murphy passed him on his way  
down the stairs so he lingered on the last step and watched the hack disappear into Chris’  
pod. 

“Beecher, get your butt in gear if you want to eat,” the CO at the gate called to him  
impatiently as the last few prisoners streamed through.

Knowing Murphy wouldn’t hurt Chris for no good reason, and certainly not for revenge,  
Toby sighed and headed for the chow hall.


	11. part 11

Elliot took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he tried to calm his nerves.  Not even  
half an hour in Em City and already he couldn’t shake the one man Chris was convinced  
could blow his cover.  His stomach rumbled but he thought missing a meal while waiting  
for lockdown was preferable to getting a shank in the back from Chris’ spurned lover. 

He was amazed how harrowing it was just being locked up, knowing he was not in  
control of any aspect of his life until he left this place.  Knowing he was surrounded by  
the scum of the earth who would gladly bleed him dry just because of who he was.  Sure  
they had discussed it.  He had known exactly what he was getting in to; at least he  
thought he had.  But the reality far, far exceeded his expectations.  Never could he  
remember feeling such leaden fear in the pit of his stomach when not actually under fire. 

After a minute or so his heart finally began to ease its frantic beating but he couldn’t  
quite calm the tiny tremble in his hands.  When a shadow fell through the door he jumped  
involuntarily.

“Easy, Keller,” the head hack advised as he entered without an invitation and leaned  
against the wall next to the sink.

“Murphy,” Elliot greeted, the cop in him overjoyed to see a guard instead of another  
prisoner.  “Sorry about the thing with the rookie,” he immediately apologized to get off  
on the right foot.

Murphy huffed a short laugh.  “I think you taught the kid more in thirty seconds than he  
ever learned in school.  Still, I wanted to send you back to finish your stint in the hole but  
Nathan vetoed that idea.”

“Yeah?  What else did she say?”

“She said no gym, no work detail, and to keep an eye on ya.  I told her if you needed a  
babysitter she should keep you in the infirmary.”

“You sending me back?” Elliot asked edgily.  The last thing he wanted was to miss his  
window of opportunity to get to the informant.

“No, I’m sending you to dinner.”

His heart jumped into overdrive again but Elliot tried to keep the anxiety out of his voice.   
“I’m not hungry.”

“Did it sound like I was asking?” Murphy grouched.  “Nathan was real insistent that I  
should take care of you, so that’s what I’m trying to do.  I know you got beat down but  
you gotta get back in the swing of things.  The sooner the better.”

Realizing he had no choice, Elliot swung his feet off the bed and stood.  At the abrupt  
movement his vision grayed and he swayed dizzily.  He grabbed for the upper bunk but if  
not for the strong hands under his arms he would have gone to his knees. 

“Keller!”

Elliot rested his head on the top mattress for a few seconds and breathed through the  
nausea while Murphy continued to steady him.  As soon as the vertigo passed he pushed  
away from the support and stumbled to the sink. 

“I’m okay,” Elliot insisted as he turned on the tap and splashed his face with lukewarm  
water.  “Just give me a minute.”

“That’s it.  You’re going to the infirmary now.”

“No.” Elliot wiped his face with a towel.  “You were right; my blood sugar must be low.   
I just need some food.”

“They didn’t feed you?” Murphy asked skeptically.

Elliot thought about the way Taylor had kept Chris hungry while he interrogated him and  
almost answered in the affirmative.  But he realized most good law enforcement officers  
would be loath to believe a story like that of their brothers in blue, especially coming  
from a con.  “I felt sick after the fall so I didn’t eat,” he lied instead of telling the half-  
truth on his lips.

“Let’s go,” Murphy ordered as he herded him out of the cell. “You go eat but I’m still  
telling Doctor Nathan what happened.  I’ll get Mineo to take you to dinner and keep an  
eye on you.”

“I can take care of myself,” Elliot protested knowing a personal guard might be safer but  
would only bring unwanted attention.

“Stop arguing and move.”

***

By the time they reached the cafeteria Elliot realized not all the guards were as easy  
going as Murphy.  An older CO followed wordlessly behind him, cranky and aloof,  
giving him a helpful shove in the right direction every time Elliot paused to get his  
bearings.  Blueprints were one thing; the cold gray halls of Oz were quite another. 

As they entered the big open room the first person Elliot recognized was Beecher who  
was throwing out the remains of what appeared to be a hastily eaten meal.  He stopped  
and stared at Elliot as Mineo deposited him at the end of the very short line of prisoners  
waiting for food. 

Looking angry and hurt, Beecher headed straight for them. “I thought you wanted to  
rest?” he asked accusingly, keeping his voice low as he leaned in close.

Elliot shrugged unhappily and glanced around.  “Murphy had other ideas,” he explained.

“Oh.  Okay.  I’ll wait for you then.  I wanted to talk to you about moving back in ...”

“Move along, Beecher,” Mineo interrupted.  “You know the rules; no loitering in the  
cafeteria.”

“I know, I was just …”

“Move,” Mineo ordered gruffly, leaving no room for further discussion.

Uncomfortable with the look of absolute longing Beecher fixed on him Elliot turned his  
head ostensibly to see what was for dinner.  When he glanced back Toby was storming  
out of the room.

“Aw Keller, you broke your girlfriend’s heart.  Again,” Mineo taunted.  “You think you  
can make it back to Em City by yourself?”

“I think I can manage,” Elliot replied as he took a paper tray and held it out for some  
mixed vegetables.

Mineo grunted his approval and walked away.

“K-boy!”

Elliot took a dinner roll and a juice then moved along to the chicken nuggets.

“Keller?” the voice repeated sounding slightly worried this time.

Glancing up, Elliot realized the man holding a pair of tongs over the last few pieces of  
deep fried, over-processed chicken had been speaking to him.  “Hey, O’Reily,” he  
responded after quickly sorting through the pictures in his head.

Ryan dished out the remaining nuggets onto his tray as he looked him over.  “You’re  
really out of it.  I guess the FBI worked you over pretty good.”

“Nah,” Elliot sighed.  “One lucky punch is all.”

“So you didn’t tell them anything.”

“About what?”

“Right.”  A slow smile spread across the Irishman’s face.  “I wasn’t worried.”

“Sure you weren’t,” Elliot scoffed as he moved away, certain he didn’t want to know  
what Chris had gotten up to that Ryan wasn’t worried about.

On his way to the nearest open table a couple skinheads sneered at him, blocking his path  
until one of them bumped him hard enough to slosh some of the runny vegetables out of  
their neat little compartment into the chicken.  Knowing instinctively he couldn’t let the  
challenge pass unanswered Elliot shot out his free hand to grab the jerk by the throat.   
“Watch it, asshole,” he snarled.  “I’m in a real bad mood.”

The guy glared back at him but broke away just as a hack started their way.  “Dead man  
walking,” the other Nazi threatened, backing off as well.

“Fuck you, you hairless bastards.”

“That’s enough,” the guard instructed as he pointed his nightstick toward the exit to make  
sure the two retreating men actually left. 

Elliot acknowledged the hack with a nod then settled at the empty table and began to pick  
at his food.  All the while he kept an eye on the prisoners around him as they polished off  
their meals and left.  No one else approached him.  The fare was bland but filling and he  
ate all of it in spite of the recurring nausea.  Petulantly he hoped Chris’ head hurt as bad  
as his did, because the Tylenol hadn’t even taken the edge off.

By the time he was finishing up the room was almost empty and the workers behind the  
counter had already made a big dent in the cleanup effort.  He lingered over his juice to  
allow the halls time to clear before heading back to Em City and watched the scurry of  
the kitchen staff.

“Cyril, wait for me,” O’Reily ordered a man with long blonde hair who hovered near the  
door.  “I got some business to take care of,” he added before disappearing into the back.

“Ryyyaaannn!” the big man wailed.  “I gotta go!”

As a father of four Elliot recognized a pee-pee dance when he saw one.  It was somewhat  
disconcerting to watch it performed by a grown man until he remembered one of the  
O’Reily brothers had a brain injury.  As he got up to throw out his tray he internally  
debated helping the guy find a safe place to take a leak.  Chris had insisted he should  
keep his head down and mind his own business no matter what, but he couldn’t really see  
the harm.  Just as he made up his mind Cyril bolted out the door. 

He realized the man-child had a lot more experience with prison life than he did, but  
Elliot dropped his tray in the trash and followed anyway just to be on the safe side.  As  
soon as he stepped out the cafeteria door he heard the sound of frightened whimpers and  
instinctively knew things had already gone sour.  Glancing to the right he witnessed Cyril  
being cornered in an alcove by the same two shitheads who had harassed him earlier. 

“Leave him alone,” Elliot shouted to draw the attention of any nearby guard to the  
ominously empty hallway.

“Hey Keller, we were waiting for you.”

“Yeah, take a number; we’ll be right with ya as soon as we finish with the retard.”

 “If you want me then let him go,” Elliot reasoned as he stalled for time, hoping fervently  
that someone would walk up any minute.  The food hadn’t really helped and he was still  
lightheaded.  He didn’t think he could fight both men at once without breaking his  
promise to Doctor Nathan.

“Ryan,” Cyril sobbed quietly as a yellow stain quickly spread across the front of his  
white work pants.

“Hey look!  The retard pissed his britches,” one of the Aryans crowed triumphantly.

When the other man spun around to point and laugh, Elliot took advantage of the opening  
and slammed the creep face-first into the wall, effectively taking him out of the game and  
evening the odds.  The guy’s buddy was on him instantly, brandishing a sharpened  
toothbrush.  Elliot blocked the blow with his left forearm but was knocked down by a  
blur of white before he could throw a punch.  Finding himself slumped against the wall  
he watched through a woozy haze as Cyril thoroughly pounded the unresisting man. 

“Cyril!” Elliot yelled as soon as his head cleared enough to speak.  He dodged the flying  
fists and grabbed the frenzied man around the waist pulling him off his apparently half-  
dead mark. 

“It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay,” Elliot consoled as he lowered the simple man to the floor.   
Cyril clung to him with bloodied hands and began to weep, calling piteously for his  
brother.  He patted Cyril’s back and rocked him gently.  So much for minding his own  
business he thought, hoping Chris would have done the same thing under similar  
circumstances. 

***

“What’s the matter with you?” Rebadow asked out of the blue. 

Beecher looked up, ready to bite his head off when he realized the old man wasn’t talking  
to him but to his podmate who had disappeared shortly after dinner.

“The warden gave me permission to marry Norma,” Busmalis explained anxiously as he  
pulled up a chair.

“I thought that’s what you wanted,” Beecher butted in impatiently.

“I do, I do!  More than anything.  But I had to make promises.”

“What kind of promises?” Rebadow narrowed his eyes.

Busmalis looked around then leaned in closer.  “I had to promise not to dig any more  
tunnels.”

“But we’re halfway there!” Rebadow protested, throwing up his hands.

“Shh.  We have to fill it back in.”

“All that work.”

“I promised.”

Rebadow pulled off his hat and tossed it to table. 

“Please, Bob,” Busmalis pleaded. 

Letting out a breath, Rebadow slowly nodded.  “Sure, sure.  We’ll start tonight.”

Busmalis beamed.

“Well I’m glad somebody’s found a little happiness around here,” Beecher muttered  
sourly.

“So what’s the matter with you?” Rebadow asked, putting his hat back on as he turned  
his attention to Beecher.

“Nothing.”

“It’s Keller,” Busmalis replied knowingly.

“It’s not Keller,” Toby snapped.  “I’m fine.”

“Keller’s giving you the brush off.  We all saw,” Rebadow agreed with Busmalis.

“It looks to me like the man might have a headache,” Busmalis pointed out.  “That’s  
certainly a nasty bruise.  I’m sure the interrogation was brutal.”

“So you don’t think it has anything to do with me?” Beecher asked sheepishly, realizing  
how self-centered he sounded.

“Did he start a fight?”

“No.”

“Did he tell you to fuck off?”

“Busmalis!” Rebadow scolded in shock.

“Did he?”

“Well, no,” Toby admitted.  “He just acts like … like his head hurts.”

Rebadow smiled softly.  “So leave him alone for a couple of days and then approach him  
again.”

“I can’t.  If he’s really hurt he needs someone to watch his back.”

“So do it from a distance,” Rebadow advised.

Toby huffed softly to himself.  “I’ll try.”

***

“What the hell?” a hack questioned as he rounded the corner. 

“Keep it down,” Elliot advised tersely as Cyril crowded even closer to him.  “You’re  
scaring him.”

“Scaring him?  It looks like you guys beat the hell out of these two.”

“They jumped us.  It was self defense.”

“Sure it was,” the CO agreed sarcastically but didn’t seem inclined to press the issue.  “I  
need a medical team in the hall by the cafeteria,” he requested via radio as he knelt to  
check the worst of the fallen men for a pulse. 

“Cyril,” Elliot whispered to the fair head pressed against his chest.  “Cyril, do you know  
who I am?”

Cyril nodded and sniffled.  “Chwis,” he muttered with a timid lisp, completely  
incongruent with the man who had just beaten the crap out of his tormentor.

“That’s right,” Elliot said, swallowing the lump in his throat.  “Come on.  Let’s go find  
Ryan.”

“Okay,” Cyril agreed tearfully.  He got up and headed for Emerald City, pulling Elliot  
along with him.  Wanting to get back to the relative safety of the cellblock, Elliot didn’t  
point out that if Ryan had come out of the cafeteria he would have seen them and  
stopped.

“Hey,” the hack called out after them.  “This ain’t over.  Don’t wander off.”

“I already told you what happened,” Elliot replied over his shoulder as he tried to keep up  
with a desperate, Ryan-seeking Cyril without getting his shoulder yanked out of its  
socket. “Besides, you know where to find us.” 

When they were almost to the gate Elliot heard rapid footsteps coming from behind and  
grabbed Cyril by the shirt to slow him down long enough to see if there was any danger.   
“Cyril, there’s Ryan,” he said when he saw who was running towards them.

“Shit,” Ryan cursed breathlessly when he reached them, checking out the blood.  “I saw  
the Aryans.  What the fuck happened?”

“Bad men,” Cyril explained getting misty eyed again.  His lip quivered as he released  
Elliot to go to his brother. 

“Did they hurt you?” Ryan asked in a dangerous voice.

“They didn’t touch him, this time. But you need to do a better job of watching out for  
him,” Elliot warned.

“You think I don’t know that?” Ryan retorted, turning his fury on Elliot.  “He’s  
hardheaded sometimes.  I told him to wait!”

“He had to pee!”

Cyril shifted from one foot to the other uncomfortably as Ryan finally looked down and  
noticed his saggy wet pants.  “Aw, Cyril,” Ryan moaned miserably.

“Chwis saved me from the bad men.”

“He did, huh?” Ryan asked, glancing at Elliot who glared back at him.

“Let’s go,” Mineo ordered as he appeared in the hallway from parts unknown to herd  
them back to the cellblock.

As they walked Cyril babbled to Ryan incessantly and Ryan made the right noises at the  
right times but his thoughts were apparently somewhere else.  Listening to the one-sided  
conversation Elliot realized Cyril had been abused by the Aryans at least once before and  
they had gotten away with it. 

The thought of the naive man getting gang raped made him feel sick and he vowed to do  
something about it when he got out.  Unfortunately, he had no idea what that might be.   
He had no jurisdiction over anything that happened in Oz.

“Open!” Mineo called out when they reached Em City, acting as if he’d been with them  
the whole time.

Murphy looked down from the guard station as they passed through the gate.  “Keller,  
McManus wants to see you.”

“Aw come on.  I’m covered in blood and piss,” Elliot protested, earning a hard look from  
Mineo.

“Why?  What happened?” Murphy repeated the question of the hour.

“Tussle in the hall,” Mineo provided as if he’d been there.  “Nobody got hurt.”

“If you don’t count the two skinheads who jumped Cyril,” Ryan said nastily.  “I’d say  
they got hurt.”

“I meant our guys.”

“Yeah.  Where were you again when it happened, Mineo?”

“Shut up.” 

Murphy watched the byplay with interest.  “Okay, Keller, hit the showers first but then  
get your ass up to McManus’ office pronto.”

“Shower?” Elliot balked.

“Mineo,” Murphy continued, dismissing Elliot as he turned to his subordinate, “Why  
don’t you come up here and give me a report.” 

Ryan smirked at a thoroughly pissed off Mineo then slapped Elliot on the shoulder.  “I  
owe you one, K-boy,” he said.  “Come on Cyril, you need a shower, too.”

Dinner sat ever heavier on Elliot’s stomach as he made his way through the common area  
to the stairs.  So far he hadn’t had a lot of luck keeping his pants on and now Murphy had  
ordered him to the showers.  He knew he was a walking bio-hazard but wondered if he  
could get away with a quick rag bath at the sink without appearing out of character.   
Somehow he doubted it.  Blood might not bother him too much but Chris didn’t seem  
like the type to shrug off getting someone else’s pee on him.  

Unaware of the gory handprints that stood out in stark contrast on the back of his white  
wifebeater he glowered at the people staring at him, including a wide-eyed Beecher who  
immediately got up to follow as he passed by.  Hopeful thoughts of showering alone  
before Cyril and Ryan showed up suddenly grew dimmer.

“Not now, Toby,” Elliot said as Beecher fell into step with him on the stairs.

“What happened?”

Elliot rolled his eyes and sighed.  “Fucking Nazis were messing with Cyril.”

“And you helped him?”

Stopping in his tracks Elliot rubbed his eyes.  “Christ.  Is that really such a hard thing to  
believe?”

“No,” Toby answered cautiously. 

“Cyril shouldn’t even be in here,” Elliot ranted, continuing his ascent with Toby right on  
his heels.  “What the hell were they thinking?   He can’t take care of himself in this  
cesspool, there are fucking predators everywhere.”

“Welcome to Oz,” Toby replied with a snort.

“Seriously, Beecher, shove off.  I gotta get cleaned up.  McManus wants to see me.”

“Since when do you jump for McManus?”

Heaving another heartfelt sigh, Elliot turned to face Toby as they reached the top of the  
stairs.  “What do you want from me?” he asked earnestly.

Taken aback, Toby searched his eyes, slowly raising a hand to stroke up Elliot’s arm.  “I  
want us to forget all the bad shit and get back to where we were.  You want that, too, you  
just won’t admit it.”

Elliot flinched away and headed for his pod. “I can’t do this right now.”  He didn’t look  
back but knew he was no longer being followed.  When he got to his door he turned to  
find Toby staring at him, leaning against the rail by the stairs and waiting patiently.

 “Dwayne,” Elliot greeted indifferently as he entered the cell, finally noticing the blood  
on his shirt as he tugged it over his head.  “Don’t worry, it’s not mine,” he offered  
casually to the horrified man on the top bunk as he waded up the fabric and tossed it into  
the corner.

“Oh, that’s good,” Dwayne muttered feebly as he climbed down from his perch. “I’ll just  
let you have some privacy.” Giving Elliot a wide berth, he slipped out the door. 

Elliot shrugged as he kicked off his boots and found a towel.  He washed his hands and  
forearms thoroughly then after a quick look around he turned his back to the glass front  
of the pod and stepped out of his pants.  The second he was naked someone burst into the  
room behind him and shut the door, scaring the shit out of him. 

“Jesus!  Don’t do that,” he squawked as he spun around.  He grabbed the towel and  
hastily wrapped it around his waist.

“Are you okay?” Doctor Nathan asked with the air of a woman who’d seen it all and  
wasn’t impressed.

“Shouldn’t you be looking after the Aryans?” Elliot asked haughtily, trying not to look as  
embarrassed as he felt having been caught with his pants down, literally and figuratively.

“They’re fine,” Nathan smirked.  “One of them is on the way to town to have his jaw  
wired together and the other refused treatment by a member of one of the ‘mud races’.   
He’ll be singing a different tune when the adrenaline wears off and he needs something  
for pain.  Sit down and let me look at you.”

“Honestly, I don’t have a scratch on me,” Elliot assured.  “I’m a hundred percent.”

“That’s funny.  I heard you were dizzy and white as a sheet before dinner.”

“Murphy,” Elliot grumbled as he finally took a seat on the lower bunk. 

“I take it the head CT was a fake?” Nathan asked as she pulled a chair opposite him and  
took out her penlight.

“Yeah.  I think the Bureau actually keeps those things on file for ops like this.  Do you  
always make house calls?”

“When I have to,” Nathan replied offhandedly as she flicked her light in one eye and then  
the other.  She frowned and did it again.

“What?”

“Any nausea with the dizziness?”

“Some.”

“I think you have a concussion.  I’m pulling the plug on your little operation.”

“You can’t do that,” Elliot protested.

“You can’t look after yourself properly with a head injury,” Nathan agued.

“Yeah?  Tell that to those two skinheads,” Elliot pointed out.  He conveniently forgot to  
mention that Cyril had inflicted the majority of the damage while he was incapacitated  
and slumped against a wall.  

“At least let me put you in the infirmary tonight.  I’ll release you first thing in the  
morning,” Nathan offered as a compromise. 

“Will they transfer any prisoners in here tonight?”

“I doubt it.”

Elliot shook his head.  “I can’t take the chance.  How about I check in with you first thing  
in the morning?”

“You’re one stubborn son of a bitch, aren’t you?”

“Like I’ve never heard that before,” Elliot grinned, glancing up to see Beecher talking to  
Dwayne outside the pod, watching him worriedly.  “Doesn’t he ever give up?”

“He loves you,” Nathan teased very gently. 

“Yeah,” Elliot sighed as he scratched his head.  “I think Chris might love him, too,  
judging by the way he talks about him.  I don’t want to mess anything up for him but I  
don’t want to have to play footsies with Beecher either.”

Doctor Nathan laughed at that then sobered.  “People do strange things in the name of  
love.  I believe Beecher really does love Keller even though he has every reason not to.   
Please don’t hurt him if you can help it, he’s been through enough.”

Seeming to know that they were talking about him, Toby opened the door a crack and  
stuck his head in.  “Is everything all right?” he asked.

“He’ll be fine.  Just give us another minute,” Nathan requested politely.

“Sure.” Toby backed out and moved to the rail to pick up his conversation with a slightly  
panicked Dwayne, no doubt giving him all the gruesome details about how Keller broke  
both his arms back when they were podmates.

The doctor opened her bag and pulled out a new ace wrap.  “Let’s change that,” she said.

Elliot glanced down at his arm and noticed the dried blood.  “Are you going to check on  
Cyril while you’re here?”

“Is he hurt?” Nathan asked, snapping on a pair of latex gloves before starting to unwrap  
the soiled bandage.

“His knuckles are pretty banged up.  He’s scared.  They raped him, you know.  Before.”

“I know.”

“He doesn’t belong here,” Elliot swore, getting angry again.  “Somebody really screwed  
up.”

“Do you know why Cyril is here?” Nathan inquired calmly as she turned and dropped the  
old wrap into the trash.

“You mean what’s he in for?”  Elliot dropped his arm and turned his body just enough to  
block their view as Beecher and Dwayne moved forward to try to get a look at the  
nonexistent injury.  Ryan O’Reily joined them at the door, staring inside intently.  “Yeah,  
let me think.  I’m pretty sure he’s doing life for first degree murder.”

“Well your recall seems intact.”

“I’ve been a cop for a long time.  I remember stuff like that,” Elliot whispered into her  
ear as she leaned forward to rewrap his tattoo, well aware of the overt attempts at  
eavesdropping from outside.

Ryan rapped on the door crossly but the doctor ignored him.  “The man Cyril killed was  
Preston Nathan, my husband,” she said quietly.  “Ryan put him up to it.”

Shocked, Elliot met Ryan’s murderous gaze through the glass.  “Why?”

“Because people do strange things in the name of love,” Nathan repeated, looking up at  
Ryan.

“Gloria,” Ryan called as he opened the door.  “Cyril needs you.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.  Go wait in your pod.”

“Oh hell, no,” Ryan refused.  “I’m not leaving you alone in here with Don Juan.”

“Hey,” Beecher complained, defending his loved one. “He’s not bothering her.”

“Somebody having a wing-ding and didn’t invite me?” McManus asked as he strolled up.   
“Doctor Nathan doesn’t need an audience.  Break it up.  O’Reily, go see about your  
brother.”

Ryan glared at McManus before leaning back into the pod.  “Hurry up.  And no more  
whispering,” he warned before stalking off.

“Beecher?”

“I’m going,” Toby grumbled.  He waved at Elliot and seemed very pleased to get a  
hesitant wave in return as the doctor finished with his arm.  Then Beecher did as he was  
told, but only went as far as the top of the stairs.

“I live here,” Dwayne whined when McManus turned to him.

“You need to get out more,” McManus insisted.  “Go play chess.”

“I don’t know how to play chess.”

“You’ve got half an hour until lockdown.  Go find something to do or I’ll tell Keller you  
said bad things about him.”

Dwayne fled without another word.  Shaking his head, McManus entered the pod.   
“What’s the diagnosis?”

“Mild concussion,” Nathan replied as she handed Elliot a bottle of pills.  “You can have  
two of these every four hours but don’t overdo it.  Even Tylenol is dangerous in large  
doses.  I’m sorry I can’t give you something stronger but we don’t want to mask any  
symptoms.”

“I understand,” Elliot replied as he accepted the bottle.  
   
“I want a guard to check him every two hours,” Nathan continued, turning to McManus.   
“Have them ask his name and number.  If he doesn’t answer or sounds slurred get him  
down to the infirmary.”

“If we need to do all that why don’t you just admit him?  You know it’s not our  
responsibility to …”

“Tim,” Nathan cut him off.  “The welfare of the prisoners rests with all of us.  The COs  
have to walk a beat anyway.  It’ll take thirty seconds every two hours.”

“Yeah, but …”

“You’re telling me they’re not capable?”

“No, I just thought …”

“It’s just a precaution.  Keller doesn’t have to be in the infirmary for this.”

“Okay, okay.  You’re the doctor,” McManus gave in reluctantly.

“You’re tough,” Elliot smiled, looking directly into Nathan’s eyes.  “Thank you,” he  
added meaningfully.

“You’re welcome,” Nathan responded gravely, holding his gaze.  “Remember you  
promised to see me first thing in the morning.  If you’re late and make me worry, I’ll hurt  
you.  If you don’t show I’ll hunt you down and put a catheter in you.”

“Okay,” Elliot agreed quickly.  “I’ll be there.”

“I mean it,” Nathan warned, pointing a finger at him as McManus opened the door for  
her.

Elliot cringed as she left.  “Why do women doctors always use the catheter threat?”

“Because they know how us guys react when it comes to safety of our dicks,” McManus  
snorted in amusement.

“True,” Elliot laughed as he popped open the bottle and took out three tablets.

McManus eyed him curiously. 

“Look, I was on my way to see you but Murphy said I had to shower first.  Then Doctor  
Nathan got here,” Elliot said proactively as he went to the sink to get a handful of water  
to wash down the pills.

“I understand that.  But I did want to talk to you about your field trip with the Feds before  
lockdown.”

“Yeah?”

“Glynn is steamed about the FBI shaking you down on his time.  He wants you to testify  
to a grand jury.”

“Why?  He let them take me.”

“They weren’t supposed to rough you up, let alone give you a concussion,” McManus  
explained.  “Whatever they threatened you with, we can protect you.”

“Sorry, I can’t help you.”

“Come on, Keller, you can do this.  You turned in Schillinger for the attack on Beecher  
and got the whole Aryan Brotherhood on your ass.  This is cake.”

“Listen, Taylor says I fell, Nathan says I didn’t.  I could have been run over by a fucking  
bus for all I know,” Elliot replied objectively.  “You want me to make something up?   
Fine.  What’s in it for me?”

“You really don’t remember.”

“No.  I don’t.”

After another long, assessing stare McManus finally sighed.  “I believe you.”

“Really.”

“Yeah.  I think if you had the chance to fuck with the Feds you’d take it.”

“I would.  You know I would.”

“All right, I’ll go tell Leo he’s out of luck.”

“You do that.”

“It smells like piss in here,” McManus said, wrinkling his nose as he moved to the door.   
“Is that you?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going to take a shower now.”

“Better hurry,” McManus advised on his way out, “It’s almost time for count.”

Elliot looked around for shower shoes but slipped back into his borrowed boots when he  
didn’t find any.  He adjusted his towel slightly higher to hide the scars that weren’t there  
then grabbed some soap and tried to remember exactly where the showers were.  Since he  
hadn’t planned on stripping down publicly, he hadn’t thought the location of the shower  
room to be especially important.  Unfortunately, now it was a problem.

At the top of the stairs he picked up his shadow. 

***


	12. part 12

Keller lay on his back and looked at the ceiling.  As tired as he was he couldn’t sleep, not  
even after his long, hot soak.  Man, it felt good to be clean again.  He took a deep breath  
of his brother’s aftershave, oh the little luxuries of the real world. 

And then there was Olivia.  After the initial ‘getting to know you’ phase they had settled  
into an easy rapport, talking about anything and everything.  Mostly they had talked  
about Elliot.  They were both concerned about him, but neither would come right out and  
say it so they tiptoed around the topic all afternoon.  In spite of the undercurrent of worry,  
Chris had enjoyed himself immensely. 

He’d never forget the look of shock on Fuller’s face when he came back in to find them  
deep in conversation, what with Chris being bare-assed naked in the tub.  “What?” Olivia  
had asked with the perfect balance of innocence and bitchiness that dared the agent to  
make something of it.  Chris decided right then and there she was all right for a cop.

Fuller left them unsupervised for the rest of the visit, except for the few minutes he  
allowed Chris to use Elliot’s razor.  Oddly enough, he’d never had to shave in front of  
armed guards before.  Olivia had found the overkill to be hilarious and had laughed  
herself silly, causing him to nick himself as he chuckled along with her.  He hated to see  
her go, but she promised to come back in the morning to see him off before they made  
the switch again and brought Elliot home.

Elliot.  Chris’ thoughts always returned to Elliot.  What would their lives be like now if  
they’d grown up together?  Would he have turned out more like his brother?  Less driven  
by his own selfish wants and needs?  Or would he have brought Elliot down with him and  
ruined both their lives?  The questions kept him awake, haunting him with what might  
have been. 

***

“Are you going all the way to the showers with me?” Elliot asked as he stopped at the  
bottom of the stairs, using the pause to decide which way to go. 

“Yes,” Beecher informed him matter-of-factly.  “Doctor Nathan doesn’t just show up in  
Em City for no good reason,” he added, talking fast and leaning in close so no one could  
listen in.  “If she’s worried, then you’ve obviously got a problem.  And if I see that, so  
does everyone else.  That makes you vulnerable right now.”

Chris had been right, the man was smart. Realizing he wasn’t going to get rid of him,  
Elliot decided to put Beecher to work. “So … what?  You wanna guard the door for me?”

“If that’s what you want,” Toby answered, pleading with his eyes to help.

Elliot set his jaw and nodded.  “Okay.  Lead the way,” he said, solving his second  
dilemma as well since Beecher actually knew where the shower room was.

“Okay,” Toby agreed with a happy little huff.  Elliot followed him through the common  
area then they turned to the right. 

“I won’t be long,” Elliot said as he disappeared into the washroom, glad to see Toby had  
taken him at his word and stopped at the door.

Kicking his boots off, Elliot cursed his brother for the lack of proper footwear.  “If I get a  
fungus, I’m kicking your ass, Chris,” he muttered under his breath as he walked barefoot  
into the communal shower, still wearing his towel.

He picked a nozzle in the middle and turned on the water, adjusting the temperature  
before draping his towel over the tile half-wall.  Keeping his back to the room he soaped  
up as quickly as he could without getting his ace wet.

When footsteps sounded on the floor, he knew it could only be Beecher.  He turned  
slightly at the waist as he rinsed off but kept his right leg back, hopefully obscuring the  
view of his unmarked back as well as his missing tattoo.

Toby laughed.  “This reminds me of our first shower together.”

“How do you mean?”

“You know.  You had that cast on your arm with a plastic bag over it.  You said ‘it’s a  
bitch takin’ a shower with this baby’ or something like that.”

Elliot glanced at his bandaged arm he was holding at an awkward angle out of the water.   
“Yeah, I guess so.  I thought you were gonna watch the door?”

“Cyril and Ryan are coming,” Beecher explained.  “Ryan looks like his dick might still  
be out of joint; I don’t want to leave you alone in here with him.”

“Yeah.  That fucking ingrate,” Elliot swore, meaning it as he shut off the water.

“You know how he is about Doctor Nathan.” Toby shrugged, helping out more than he  
knew by tossing Elliot the towel.  “The same way you are about me.”

Without bothering to dry, Elliot covered himself with the towel just as the O’Reily boys  
entered the room.  “Nice hat,” he teased Cyril with a grin, finally turning all the way  
around.

“It’s a shower cap,” Cyril replied seriously, picking the nozzle closest to the door.  “Ryan  
don’t like me to sleep with wet hair.  It gets rats in it.”

“Yeah, uh, K-boy,” Ryan sniffed guiltily.  “Sorry about before.  I just don’t like to see  
anybody flirting with Gloria.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Elliot shrugged as he came around the short wall, playing it off  
lightly.  “You know I’ve only got eyes for Beecher.”  The second the words left his  
mouth he knew he was in trouble. 

Toby’s face flushed red but he broke into a sappy grin like a kid who got more than he’d  
asked for on Christmas morning.  “Is that right?” he asked flirtatiously.

“Ah, fuck,” Ryan complained, turning away.  “Don’t start that shit in front of me.”

Faking a laugh, Elliot bent for his boots.  He froze when Toby touched him on the same  
spot Doctor Nathan had told him there should be scars. 

“You heal well,” Toby exclaimed fingering the wet skin.  “I haven’t seen your back up  
close for a long time.”

Elliot hurriedly shoved his feet into the boots.  “I got good genes,” he quipped,  
straightening up and moving away.  “You probably wouldn’t see the scars at all if you  
didn’t know where to look,” he added hoping Toby would just go with the suggestion that  
there was actually something there to see, realizing too late it sounded a lot like an  
accusation. 

“Yeah,” Toby agreed huskily.  The look of culpability that crossed his face spoke  
volumes.  “You’re probably right.”

“Come on,” Elliot said, feeling like a shit for getting Beecher’s hopes up when he didn’t  
really know how Chris felt about him.  “Let’s go.”

Toby stopped him at the door, glancing back to see Ryan talking to Cyril.  When he  
leaned in for a kiss, Elliot slid a hand up between them, almost touching his lips.  “Toby,”  
he sighed.  “We need to talk.”

“Chris,” Toby hissed urgently.

“Just listen,” Elliot beseeched, keeping his voice low as he fought the urge to back away.   
“I don’t remember, okay?  Our first shower, I don’t remember.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m trying,” Elliot struggled for the right words.  “I’m trying to say and do what  
everybody expects me to so nobody gets suspicious, but there are so many things I really  
don’t remember.”

“Because of your injury?” Toby asked, brushing his fingers lightly along Elliot’s bruised  
forehead.

“Yeah.”

“Does Doctor Nathan know?”

“Yeah, she does.  She says it’ll all come back to me, but I think she’s a little concerned or  
she wouldn’t have shown up like that.”

“Yeah,” Toby agreed.  “So what do you remember?”

Elliot rubbed his face with both hands.  “You know, faces, names … feelings.  For the  
most part.”

“But you don’t remember actual events?”

“Right.”

“Do you remember why we were fighting?”

“No,” Elliot stammered after a brief pause.  “You know, that’s kind of why I’m hesitant  
to make any promises.”

“What about Ronnie?”

“Who?”

“Barlog.  Ronnie Barlog, your old buddy …”

“Count!” Murphy shouted causing the few prisoners remaining in the common area to  
shuffle off toward their pods.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” Toby declared.  Unexpectedly he grabbed Elliot’s face and  
planted a firm kiss on his mouth before dashing off.

“God,” Ryan declared in disgust, brushing by the stunned cop.

“Bye, Chwis,” Cyril said with a sweet smile as he tagged along behind his brother.

“Night, Cyril,” Elliot mumbled.  He shook his head as he wiped his lips and started for  
his pod.

“Move your ass, Keller,” Mineo called from up above.  Elliot smirked at him and  
continued at his own pace, flippantly giving the finger to the prisoners making cat calls  
from the sidelines as he held up count.  A move Chris surely would have been proud of.   
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Beecher watching him.

***

After count Elliot pulled on a pair of threadbare briefs under his towel then got dressed as  
discreetly as he could before going through Chris’ things.  He stayed away from the stack  
of letters from various ex-wives and lawyers because he didn’t actually want to snoop,  
and he sure as hell didn’t want to accidentally run across anything incriminating.  He just  
wanted some insight into the life of this stranger who was undeniably his own flesh and  
blood.

In the end, the only thing the spontaneous inventory told him was that Chris played chess,  
was something of a pervert, and desperately in need of some new socks and underwear.   
The methodical search took a whole five minutes then Elliot had nothing to do but thumb  
through his brother’s eclectic porn collection and listen to Dwayne chatter nervously.   
Four mind-numbing hours later the lights finally went out. 

Letting out a breath, Elliot collapsed onto his bunk without bothering to get undressed.   
He’d made it through his first day in Oz with a whole lot of luck and a little help from a  
lady doctor.  He made a mental note to send Nathan flowers as soon as he got home.   
Well, right after he kissed Kathy and the kids anyway. 

In spite of a few minor bumps, the operation so far had gone fairly smoothly.  Since  
Nathan had ordered no gym and no work detail all he had to do the next day was sit  
around and wait to scope out any new arrivals.  The initial anxiety he felt upon being  
incarcerated was starting to fade and he felt reasonably safe enclosed in his little glass  
cage as he closed his eyes. 

Sometime later the body in the upper bunk started to move.  Elliot tensed, ready for a  
fight but didn’t give away the fact that he was still awake.  Scrawny white legs appeared  
in front of his face right before a body dropped gracelessly to the floor.  In the dim light  
Elliot watched in appalled fascination as Dwayne used shaky hands to tug off his boxers.

“Dwayne?”

“Yes?”

“What are you doing?”

Dwayne cleared his throat and wiped away tears.  “I’m ready.  I’ll do whatever you want,  
just please don’t hurt me.”

“What?”

“I’ve, uh, I’ve never been, you know … I’ve never taken it up the ass.  But that’s good,  
right?  You’ll like that.  Oh, and I don’t have any experience with, uh, what’s the term?   
Giving head?  I practiced with a banana after lunch though,” Dwayne rambled in mild  
hysteria.  “But that didn’t really work out because it made me vomit.”

Horrified, Elliot sat up abruptly causing Dwayne to jump back and smash his bony hip  
into the sink.  “Ow,” Elliot winced in sympathy.  “Dammit, Dwayne, put your shorts on,”  
he ordered gently as he looked away.  “I can’t talk to you when you’re naked.”

The frightened man scrambled for his discarded underwear and put them on so fast the  
slit ended up in the back.  He stood there crying silently and made no move to fix his  
mistake.

“Sit down,” Elliot told him and Dwayne obeyed instantly by dropping to the hard floor  
like a bag of cement.  “I meant in the chair,” Elliot sighed in exasperation as he  
physically pulled the fool up and sat him on the edge of the bed. 

Dwayne flinched hard at the touch and sat stiffly but he stayed put so Elliot sat in the  
chair and scooted around until they were face to face.  “Dwayne, what are you in for?   
And don’t tell me murder because that’s bullshit.”

“A hundred and eight counts of fraud, embezzling, and, ah, tax evasion,” Dwayne  
mumbled.  “I’m a CPA.  Uh, I was a CPA.”

“Yeah?  Lucky for you I don’t fuck accountants.”

“I’m not your bitch?” Dwayne asks dumbly.

“No,” Elliot laughed, “You are definitely not my bitch.”

They both jumped when a light swept through the pod and a guard rapped on the door.   
“Keller, name and number.”

“Keller, Christopher, 98K514,” Elliot replied dutifully and loud enough for the guard to  
hear him.

“Good.  Now break it up and go to sleep.  I’ll see you in two hours.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Elliot said as he got up.  “Now get the hell out of my  
bed.”

Dwayne didn’t have to be told twice, but he climbed into his own bunk with less of the  
overwhelming fear that had been coming off him in waves.

Elliot lay back down but couldn’t help but think about all the horrible things that would  
probably happen to a defenseless geek like Dwayne during his stay at Oz.  It was a minor  
miracle he hadn’t already been gang banged in the showers, although by the smell of him,  
he didn’t visit those facilities often. 

He finally managed to stop thinking and fall asleep but not long after the hack was back  
rapping at the door.  “Name and number, Keller.  Hey, I even gave you a clue.”

***

Beecher paced restlessly back to the door to peer up at Chris’ darkened pod.  Apparently  
Keller was sleeping like a baby between visits from a hack every two hours which Toby  
had witnessed at ten, twelve and a few minutes ago at two.  Confused and feeling  
inexplicably stood-up, he leaned his cheek against the wall and continued to stare at the  
empty spot where Chris usually lingered after lights out to watch him.  He was never  
really sure if it was love or hate that drew him there but it was a reassuring constant and  
he missed it more than he thought he should. 

His disappointment was bad enough but now it battled with a jealous suspicion that he’d  
somehow been replaced in Keller’s affections.  Surely Chris didn’t want to screw the  
ugly twit he was now rooming with.  And it wasn’t like Toby hadn’t done his dead level  
best for the last week or so to scare Dwayne away from any thoughts of pragging himself  
to Chris for protection.  Not that he thought Chris would go for it even to get his dick  
sucked every night, but still, the possibility existed. 

And what was with the odd vibes he’d been getting from Chris since the FBI had dropped  
him back at Oz?  In some ways he was more open and comprehensible than ever before  
but mostly he seemed at a loss with only fits and starts of his usual personality showing  
through.  The overpowering, almost palpable spark of passion was gone from his eyes  
replaced by wariness and uncertainty.  Maybe Keller’s obsession with him had finally run  
its course.  Maybe it really was over. 

Or maybe Chris had been telling the truth and didn’t come to the window tonight because  
he didn’t remember.  That bothered Toby more than the thought of him boffing Dwayne.   
It worried him.  If Keller lost his edge he’d be a dead man in no time.  He had too many  
enemies to forget.

A metallic clank drew Toby’s attention to the floor.  He’d heard Busmalis and Rebadow  
tunneling before but this sounded different.  Suddenly there was a muffled but terrified  
shriek and the ominous sound of rushing water. 

“Guard!”  Toby shouted as he beat on the door.  “Help!  Somebody help!”

“What the fuck?” Toby’s most recent podmate asked blearily as he sat up in the bottom  
bunk.

Toby ignored him as usual and continued to pound on the glass until he caught the  
attention of a passing hack.

“What’s the matter with you, Beecher?  You’re gonna wake up the whole cellblock.”

“Over there!  Look over there,” Toby urged frantically.

The guard shined his light into the next pod then grabbed his whistle and blew it long and  
loud to summon assistance.  Immediately the overhead lights flashed on and hacks came  
running as prisoners woke to the commotion and ran to their doors to see what was going  
on.  After shouting to the tower to unlock the old men’s pod, several COs disappeared  
inside.

Unable to see what was going on next door Toby glanced upward.  He splayed his fingers  
against the door as Keller finally appeared at the glass.  His breath caught for a minute  
when Chris shifted his gaze from all the action to his face.  He looked sleep mused and  
bewildered and his eyes only remained on Toby for a second before he looked away, but  
it was still a connection. 

Yelping in surprise when something cold and wet touched his foot, Toby looked down to  
see water seeping under the wall.  “Shit,” he swore, having no further retreat as the rising  
tide slowly overtook his feet.  “Guard,” he yelled again, pointing to the floor. 

The hack grabbed another CO and showed him the problem.  They checked a few more  
pods then one of them ran towards the guard station.  In the meantime Toby worked in  
tandem with his roomie and grabbed what they could out of their lockers and piled it on  
top of his bunk.  Less than a minute later the door lock disengaged. 

“Over here,” a hack instructed as he pulled the door open.  “Line up.”

Beecher’s podmate joined him in the middle of the common area, as did the two men  
from the other side of the flooding pod.  A thoroughly wet Rebadow was dragged from  
his cell and marched away.  Busmalis coughed and sputtered when he was pulled from  
the mouth of his tunnel by two equally muddy and wet guards.  They followed the soggy  
footprints leading out of Em City and disappeared beyond the gate as water continued to  
gurgle out of the hole hidden in the corner behind the toilet.

“What about us?” One of the Muslim prisoners asked. 

“They’re trying to shut off the water main right now,” a hack supplied irritably.  “Relax.   
You’ll be back in your bunk shortly.”

“I don’t think so.  They’ll have to tear up the floor over here to fix the pipe,” another CO  
pointed out.  “We should probably send them to cellblock B until it’s finished.”

“I don’t want to go to cellblock B,” Toby exclaimed.

“Shut up, Beecher.  Nobody’s talking to you.”

“If you send me there I’m as good as dead and you know it.  Call McManus.  There has  
to be a way to keep us here.”

“I don’t need to wake up McManus.  We can handle this tonight and he’ll do what he  
wants tomorrow.”  The CO in charge replied testily as the bubbling water finally slowed  
then stopped. 

“So what do you want us to do?” another hack asked.  “We need six beds.”

“Okay, we’ve got one empty bunk here in Em City.  Butch and Sundance will probably  
be in the infirmary for the rest of the night and then in Ag Seg after that.  That leaves  
three of these assholes to find someplace to house for the next couple of days.”

“We will be welcome and safe with our brothers,” the Muslim prisoner volunteered for  
him and his cellmate.

“Yeah, okay,” the guard allowed.  “That might work.  You can hold all-night prayer  
meetings for all I care.  That leaves one more.”

“Keller won’t mind sharing,” Toby said, trying not to give away his nervous excitement.

“Oh hell no.  You two’ll be fighting or fucking by morning.  Pick another pod.”

“We won’t.  We’ll have Halstead as a buffer,” Toby urged.  “It’s only for a day or two,  
right?  I’ll be safe there.  Please.”

“Let him go where he wants,” the other CO interceded.  “It might be entertaining.   
Besides one of them will end up in the hole sooner or later and solve our problem.”

“Yeah, okay,” the boss agreed as he turned to Beecher.  “But if you step out of line one  
time …”

“I won’t.  Neither will Keller,” Toby promised.  He couldn’t help but smile as he turned  
to look up at Chris.  Living in the same pod he’d get to the bottom of the latest Keller  
enigma in no time.

***

“What’s happening?” Dwayne asked, unconsciously pressing himself against Elliot’s  
back as he peeked around his shoulder.  Elliot shrugged him off and moved away a step.   
Much to his chagrin Dwayne slid right along with him, oblivious to his annoyance and  
already seeing him as a source of comfort and safety in spite of the horror stories he’d  
heard.

“Calm down.  It doesn’t have anything to do with us.  They must have busted a water  
pipe,” Elliot surmised, watching as the two old coots were taken away.  “What a mess.” 

There was a short, animated discussion between the prisoners in the common area and a  
couple of the guards. When it was over Beecher turned to look up at Elliot with a broad  
smile.

“Uh-oh,” Elliot mumbled, suddenly getting a bad feeling.

“What?”

“Oh God, no,” Elliot prayed softly as the prisoners paired off with guards and began  
moving in different directions. 

“What?  What?”

Beecher’s podmate was moved down to the end on the bottom row of cells but Beecher  
himself, along with the two other prisoners, was marched toward the stairs. 

“Shit,” Elliot spat under his breath, trying not to get panicky.

“What’s wrong?” Dwayne asked again, getting even more wound up.

“I think we’re gonna have company,” Elliot replied as calmly as he could with Chris’  
warnings of ‘stay away from Beecher’ ringing in his head.

The group paused at the top of the stairs and a cell was opened.  Both of the Muslim  
prisoners were welcomed inside with formal hugs all around.  As soon as the door was  
secured Beecher and one of the hacks continued around the corner and headed straight for  
the Keller pod.

“Oh no, not Beecher,” Dwayne protested wildly.  “He bit off a guy’s dick, you know.”

Elliot stared at his roommate in shocked disbelief.  “He did what?”

“You didn’t know that?  Everybody knows that.”

“Oh yeah, I must’a forgot,” Elliot mumbled unconvincingly, as if anyone could ever  
forget a little tidbit like that.  He closed his eyes and resolved himself to the situation.   
There was nothing he could do about it without blowing his cover.  It was only for one  
night, he rationalized.  He’d collect the information and be gone tomorrow then Beecher  
would once again be Chris’ problem.  What could go wrong? 

Unfortunately, the internal pep talk did little to appease his worry.  In fact the effort it  
took to try to convince himself it was all going to work out made his head hurt.  He went  
to his locker and fumbled with the bottle of Tylenol, popping two of the tablets into his  
mouth.  By the time he’d swallowed a handful of water to wash them down the lock on  
the door clicked and a hack yanked it open.  Looking up from the sink he met Beecher’s  
steady gaze head on.

“Hey,” Toby greeted with a crazy grin.

“Hey.”

“Okay, girls, you know the rules.  Keep your hands to yourselves or somebody’s gonna  
spend some time in the hole,” the hack warned.

“I won’t touch anybody,” Dwayne blurted out, once again hiding behind Elliot.

“I wasn’t talkin’ to you, Halstead,” the guard replied as he gave Beecher a little shove  
into the pod and closed the door behind him.  “Do yourselves a favor and get some sleep.   
Keller, I’ll see you in about forty minutes.”

“Can’t we skip our four o’clock?” Elliot asked wearily, so very tired.  “I’m awake now  
and I’m fine.”

The hack looked around and then nodded.  “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“Deal,” Elliot agreed as he pulled back the blanket and rolled into his bunk, not  
particularly caring what kind of sleeping arrangement the other two men came to.

“What’s all that about?” Toby asked as the hack walked away.

“Checking for brain damage,” Elliot muttered as he turned toward the wall and got  
comfortable.

Toby smirked.  “Yeah?  In your case, how will they be able to tell?”

“Funny,” Elliot sneered, glancing over his shoulder.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll take the floor,” Dwayne volunteered with an anxious stammer.

“Don’t bother,” Toby retorted.  Still clad in a tee shirt and boxers, he slipped in behind a  
surprised Elliot and rested against him back to back.  “We’ve doubled up before.” 

Elliot snorted in displeasure but made room anyway, getting unbelievably even closer to  
the wall.  He did his best to conceal how freaked out he was by the situation and tried to  
remember close quarters he’d shared on ships while he was in the Marine Corps.   
Somehow, as Toby snuggled up to him, this wasn’t the same.  After a brief, wordless  
tussle with the blanket they settled down. 

Dwayne looked on in bemusement for a minute then climbed up to his own bunk.  “If  
you’re sure,” he offered one last time.

“Shut up and go to sleep,” Beecher told him with a contented sigh as he closed his eyes,  
rubbing his cold feet up and down Elliot’s covered leg for a minute to warm them.

Elliot stared down into Em City as a noisy crew of workmen came through the gate.   
Some of the lights finally dimmed, but trapped against the warm body of his brother’s  
former lover, sleep was a long time coming.

***

Fatigue eventually won out over Elliot’s relentless headache and the unnatural, cramped  
position of his body.  When he finally slept the ambient noise of the cellblock found its  
way into his dreams, blending seamlessly with the images of violence and blood already  
in his head.  His brief respite from prison life was filled with echoes of the gate slamming  
shut and Cyril O’Reily’s terrified whimpers.  He muttered restlessly in his sleep but there  
wasn’t room to toss and turn.  Even if he wasn’t consciously aware of the arm that  
encircled him from behind, he stilled and leaned into the comfort it offered.

Just before dawn a light caress on his abdomen under his shirt teased Elliot from his  
exhausted daze.  When the roving hand moved down to massage the morning bulge in his  
pants he moaned and instinctively pushed into the touch even as he shook off the last  
vestige of another disturbing dream.  Hot breath quickened on the back of his neck as his  
button was undone and the zipper pulled down.  Fingers slipped inside the tight confines  
of his underwear and began to gently squeeze and tug his eager cock. 

The growing pleasure only added to his confusion as lips brushed insistently across his  
nape leaving the slight sting of … whisker burn?  Suddenly fully awake, Elliot froze as  
his eyes popped open.  The sight of the glass wall he was pressed against left him  
bewildered for another moment until his sluggish brain began to fully function.

“God, I’ve missed you,” a man’s voice whispered into his ear.

In a knee-jerk reaction Elliot tried to buck off his assailant but found himself pinned.  He  
grabbed the hand in his pants as hard as he could, inadvertently causing it to crush and  
pinch his own tender flesh.  “Get off me,” he gasped in pain as the missing pieces of the  
puzzle fell into place.  Oz, Em City … Beecher.

“Ow, fuck!  Chris?”

“Get the fuck off me, Beecher,” Elliot warned again, keeping his voice dangerous and  
low in spite of his rising panic.  Unable to move without increasing the agonizing  
pressure on his crotch he kept up an iron grip on Toby’s wrist and tried to force it away.

“Shit!  You’ve got me trapped.  I can’t let go until you do,” Toby said, sounding a little  
alarmed himself.

Against his gut reaction Elliot released the offending extremity and allowed Toby to yank  
his hand free and tumble backwards off the narrow bunk in the process. Elliot bit back a  
yelp of pain as he rolled onto his abused member to capture a stunned Toby by the throat  
as he sat up from the floor.

“Chris?” Toby managed to get out before Elliot added his other hand and compressed his  
windpipe.

Eyes wide, they stared at each other in a tableau of fear and fury.  Toby didn’t struggle  
until his air supply began to run short then he merely grabbed Elliot by the forearms and  
held on, appearing to accept his fate.  Elliot snapped out of his blind rage and forcefully  
pushed Toby away, his head missing the edge of the sink by mere inches as he fell.

Elliot dropped his head into his hands and the sound of both men heaving for breath filled  
the pod.  After a while he rolled onto his back and gingerly adjusted himself before  
zipping up, shaking as the rush of adrenaline finally subsided.  His face still burned hot  
with emotion; anger, embarrassment, and shame.  He could hear Toby getting up but he  
refused to look at him.

“Chris?” came a hoarse whisper.

“Don’t ever touch me again,” Elliot warned quietly as the overhead lights flashed on.

“Count!”

Wincing as he got to his feet, Elliot limped over to the door and pushed it open as soon as  
the lock clicked.  As he stepped outside he missed the uneasy stare-off between his two  
podmates.

“Not a word about this to anyone,” Toby told Halstead, pointing at him with a hand  
rubbed raw by the violent contact with Elliot’s zipper.

Dwayne nodded mutely and slid to the floor, following Beecher out.  They both gave  
Elliot a little space as they lined up on either side of him.

“Rough night?” the hack asked as he got a good look at Elliot.

“No.  Why do you ask?” Elliot came back coolly.

“The doc wants you in the infirmary first thing.  I’ll take you right after count.”

Elliot ran a hand over his face.  “Whatever you say,” he sighed wearily.  He wasn’t much  
in the mood for breakfast anyway.  Certain Beecher was staring at him, he refused to  
even glance in that direction.


	13. part 13

As Olivia stepped out onto the back porch of the safehouse her breath caught in her throat  
and she did a double take.  Again.  Intellectually, she knew the shirtless man sprawled on  
the steps soaking up the early morning sun was not her partner.  The cigarette was her  
first clue.  Then there was the more casual slope of his shoulders, the relaxed, almost  
seductive pose of his body as he rubbed a bare foot along a clump of grass.  She doubted  
Elliot was ever that comfortable in his own skin and that thought made her sad.  It was a  
good look for him, even if it wasn’t exactly… him.

“Hey,” Chris greeted with a bright smile as his head lolled back to get a good look at her.   
He snuffed out the last ember of his smoke and held out a hand to her, inviting her to join  
him.  “You came back!”

“I said I would,” Olivia replied, taking his free hand long enough to let him tug her down  
to sit next to him.  His other hand, she noted, was handcuffed to the rail, another grim  
reminder that he wasn’t Elliot.  The three armed guards who stood at tactical positions  
around the perimeter of the small, walled yard reinforced the observation.  “Aren’t you  
cold?”

“Nah,” Chris shrugged.  He pulled down his sweats enough to show off his bright blue  
underwear.  “In fact I was trying to catch some rays but they made me put my pants back  
on, the fucking prudes.”

“Nut huggers?” Olivia asked with a snort.

“Don’t laugh, they’re Elliot’s.  Although they are starting to grow on me,” he admitted  
mischievously.  “I’m thinking about stealing them.”

“Somehow I don’t think Elliot will want them back.”

Chris tried to look hurt but the sparkle in his eyes gave away his amusement.  “You’re  
probably right.  He seems a little uptight.”

“No he’s not,” Olivia defended instantly.  When Chris narrowed his gaze and pursed his  
lips dubiously she relented.  “Okay, maybe he’s a little uptight about certain things.”

“Like underwear?”

“I wouldn’t know.  I’ve been his partner for years and never even suspected he wears  
bikinis.”

Picking up the pack of smokes next to him Chris shook out another cigarette and stuck it  
in his mouth.  “Come on, Olivia, tell me the truth.  You’ve never even been tempted to  
investigate Elliot’s shorts?”  He asked as he held a disposable lighter close and bent to  
shield the wind as he tired to coax a spark.

Olivia cupped her hands around the lighter to shelter the small flame.  “I try to keep that  
kind of stuff off the job.”

“Thanks,” Chris mumbled as he puffed a couple times to make sure the end stayed lit.   
“So you try to keep it off the job.  Sounds like you might have slipped up a time or two.”

“Never with Elliot,” Olivia assured, taking the lighter from him just to have something to  
do with her hands.  “He’s not the type to slip.”

“His loss.”

The door behind them opened and they both glanced up to watch Fuller come out onto  
the stoop. 

“Good morning, Detective Benson.  You’re here terribly early.”

“I just wanted to make sure Chris doesn’t need anything before I head in to work.”

“Yeah,” Chris said as he turned and settle back on the step.  He took a long drag and let  
the smoke curl slowly out of his mouth.  “What time do we leave anyway?”

Fuller paused a beat.  “We don’t.  Not today anyway.”

“What?” Olivia and Chris asked at the same time, their heads whipping around to face the  
agent.

“There’s been a complication.”

“What kind of complication?  Is Elliot all right?” Olivia questioned tersely.

“He’s fine as far as we know.  But according to an inside source there has been an  
unfortunate delay.  It seems that a couple of prisoners were attempting to tunnel their way  
out of Oz and accidentally broke a water main.  All transfers in and out of Em City have  
been halted until it can be fixed.  Elliot won’t be able to complete his mission until then.”

“Fucking Busmalis,” Chris swore as he flipped his cigarette away.  “I’ll wring his fucking  
neck.”

“Agamemnon Busmalis, AKA ‘the Mole’,” Fuller elaborated.  “Good guess, Mr. Keller.”

“It ain’t no big secret those old fucks like to dig,” Chris growled.  “Screw your operation;  
you get Elliot out of there now.”

“I agree,” Olivia said as she got to her feet.  “The longer he’s in there the more likely he  
is to be discovered.”

“We’ve put operatives in for far longer than this,” Fuller argued. 

“Undercover yes, but not posing as someone else,” Olivia countered angrily.  “He can’t  
keep up this charade indefinitely.”

Chris stood up slowly and pulled the cuff up the rail until he couldn’t advance any further  
as Fuller stepped back just out of his reach.  “You just remember what I told you,” Chris  
warned.

“Elliot knew the risks.  He’ll be in no more danger tomorrow than he is today.”

“That’s bullshit,” Chris snapped, lunging as far as the chain allowed him. 

As one, the guards jumped into action and ran towards them.  Olivia read the situation  
and stepped into Chris, wrapping her arms around him protectively.  “Calm down,” she  
whispered, trying to save him from the imminent beating.

“I swear to God, I’m gonna kill you,” Chris threatened, pointing at Fuller until Olivia  
yanked his arm down and pulled it around her.  He swallowed compulsively and hugged  
her as tight as he could.

“Stop it!” Olivia shouted when they were surrounded and hands grabbed at them, trying  
to pull them apart.  “Leave him alone.  He’s not doing anything wrong.”

“It’s okay, back off,” Fuller ordered.  “Keller, release her now or I’ll have you shackled.”

Chris glared at Fuller over Olivia’s shoulder but slowly raised his free arm up and away  
from her.  Olivia didn’t follow suit but stubbornly held on to him.

“Detective Benson, please.  You need to cooperate if you wish further contact.”

“Elliot told me that was part of the deal, I have access to this man for the duration of the  
op,” Olivia reminded him.  “Or are you not a man of your word?”

“The situation has changed.”

“No it hasn’t.”

“Why do you even care?” Fuller inquired.  “Keller is nothing like his brother.  He doesn’t  
deserve your protection.”

“He’s right, you know,” Chris murmured into her hair, taking the opportunity to breathe  
in her scent one last time even as he kept his arms away.

“Shut up,” Olivia said, dropping her hands from his cool skin and reluctantly backing  
away a few inches.  “I’m not going to stand by and let them hurt you.”

“Honestly,” Fuller complained.  “If he behaves he’s in no danger whatsoever.  This is  
practically a vacation for him.  While he’s here he gets real food, sunshine, cigarettes,  
and a beautiful woman at his beck and call.  What else could a lifer ask for?”

“Sex, drugs, alcohol,” Taylor listed as he came outside, forcing Fuller to move over or  
get hit by the door.

“Fuck you,” Chris sneered at him.  “This whole thing is your fault.  Maybe I’ll kill you,  
too.”

“Chris,” Olivia objected.  “Don’t give them ammunition to use against you.”

“He doesn’t mean it,” Fuller said ingenuously.  “He’s just acting out.”

“He means it,” Taylor smirked.  “Don’t you, Keller?”

“Don’t,” Olivia insisted, laying her fingers against Chris’ lips to suppress his retort. 

Chris glared at Taylor then kissed Olivia’s fingertips and took the lighter from her as he  
moved to the bottom of the stairs, turning his back on all of them.  He easily lit up  
another Marlboro using only one hand.

“I think maybe you should get to work, Detective,” Fuller recommended in his usual  
mild-mannered tone.  “You don’t want to be late.  Let Mr. Keller finish this last cigarette  
then take him to his room,” he added to one of the guards before he pushed past Taylor  
and went back inside.

Olivia shot Taylor an annoyed look as he gloated then went down the steps to kneel in  
front of a reticent Chris.  “I’ll come back this evening and bring you dinner,” she offered.

“Do something,” Chris said softly. 

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.  Tell somebody.  You’ve got to get him out of there.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Olivia promised. 

Chris crushed out his cigarette and pulled her in for a quick hug, releasing her before the  
guards could intervene. 

“Get up,” the closest guard instructed, tossing Chris the discarded tee-shirt.  “Sorry Miss,  
you need to go.”

“Detective,” Olivia corrected as she climbed the steps.  At the top she turned to watch the  
guards confiscate the lighter and thoroughly frisk Chris before unchaining him from the  
rail.

“Careful, I might have a blade of grass,” Chris mocked as he pulled on the shirt.  As soon  
as he was dressed they cuffed his hands behind his back. 

“You need to stop seeing your partner when you look at this guy,” Taylor advised Olivia.   
“Keller’s a cold blooded killer.  This brotherly concern for Stabler is just an act for your  
benefit.”

Olivia met the pleading gaze looking up at her.  “Do something,” Chris mouthed at her  
again.

With a nod to Chris Olivia turned to go back through the house to claim her weapon.   
“You’re full of shit,” she told Taylor as he opened the door for her.


	14. part 14

Elliot shuffled into the infirmary, forcing himself not to limp.  His Johnson still hurt from  
the battering it took when Toby’s hand got caught up in his pants, but he’d be damned if  
he’d ever tell anyone about it.

Doctor Nathan practically met him at the door, her eyes wide; a little too wide for Elliot’s  
comfort.  “What?” he asked, ignoring the happy greeting called across the room from  
Gerald.

“I have to tell you something,” Nathan told him quietly as she led him to the exam room  
instead of to a bed.  She closed the door behind them then went to the stool and sat down  
before eyeing him nervously.

“Okay, now you’re starting to scare me,” Elliot said.  Wary of her expression, he leaned  
against the back of the door and folded his hands in front of him, projecting nothing but  
calm.

“I um, I called the FBI last night.”

“Why?”

Nathan twisted her hands in her lap.  “I had to be sure.”

“Yeah, okay,” Elliot shrugged, relieved to know that was all that was bothering her.   
“Who’d you talk to?”

“There was a bit of a runaround, actually.”

“With the FBI?  I find that hard to believe,” Elliot smirked irreverently.

With an amused snort of agreement, Nathan managed a little smile.  “Eventually I got to  
talk to an Agent Fuller.”

Elliot nodded.

“After a long song and dance he finally confirmed your story and asked me to relay  
messages to you for the duration of your stay at Oz.”

“Hopefully it won’t come to that.  I don’t want to put you in the middle of anything.”

“I’m already in the middle.  I promised I would help and I will, I don’t want to see  
anything bad happen to you or to Chris.  In fact I called Agent Fuller again this morning  
to give him an update.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” Nathan acknowledged as she got up to check him out, grateful he had  
taken the news of her small betrayal so well.  “Sit over here.  You look like crap.”

“I feel like crap.  I didn’t sleep much.”

“Yeah, I heard all about the excitement in Em City last night.  Now tell me what’s really  
wrong with you.  Is it your head?” 

“Nothing is wrong,” Elliot lied as sat on the stool with some difficulty.  “Let’s get this  
over with; I have to be back on the block before any transfers come in.”

“You don’t know?” Nathan paused to look at him as she clicked on her penlight.

“Know what?”

“We had an emergency staff meeting about it early this morning.  All transfers are frozen.   
Nobody is going to be moving in or out of Em City until they can get the pipes fixed.  By  
the way, Fuller expects you to tough it out and stay no matter how long it takes.”

Elliot felt the color drain from his face as he went through a whole gamut of emotions in  
ten seconds flat, all of them bad.  He tried to put on a more composed face but Nathan  
had already read him.  When she knelt in front of him and placed a sympathetic hand on  
his thigh Elliot flinched.

“My God,” Nathan murmured, horrified for him as she instantly picked up on the classic  
reaction.  “Are you … are you injured?”

“What?  No!  It’s not what you think,” Elliot assured as he reached out and took the  
penlight out of her hand to distract her until he could get his head together.  He didn’t  
make eye contact with her as he turned it off and laid it aside.

“You know, I’ve been doing this for a long time.  Around here I’ve seen it all,” Nathan  
said very softly.  “I know a victim of a sexual assault when I see one.”

“I’m sure you do,” Elliot laughed at the irony and then cleared his throat.  “Actually,  
Doc, I’m a sex crimes detective.  I deal with rapist and their victims on a daily basis so  
spare me all the platitudes, okay?  I’ve heard them all.  Hell, I’ve said them all.”

“I won’t patronize you,” Nathan agreed reluctantly as she rose to her feet.  “Just know  
that I’ve been there, too.”

“I’m sorry,” Elliot stammered, taken aback by the unexpected revelation.

“I survived.  But I do insist that you let me examine you.”

“There’s nothing to examine,” Elliot swore, already telling far more than he’d intended.   
“I was groped.  I freaked out and ended up racking myself with the perp’s hand.”

“How?”

“Jesus,” Elliot complained under his breath as he shook his head.  “I squeezed him, he  
squeezed me back.  Hard.  I … I don’t think he meant to hurt me, but I might have hurt  
him.”

“Beecher?” Nathan asked, her eyes going wide again.  “Is he still breathing?”

“Yeah.  But can you maybe check on him later?”

“Sure.  Are you bruised?” Nathan persisted, still not quite satisfied with his answers.

“It just happened this morning.  I haven’t exactly had the opportunity to look yet.”

Nathan stared him down. 

“No,” Elliot refused.  “You’re not gonna do it for me.”

“If you were Keller you would’ve already whipped it out for me.  He’s not one to miss an  
opportunity to be… examined.”

“I’m not Keller.”

“Are you sure you’re even related?” Nathan asked in exasperation as she pulled on a pair  
of gloves and picked up her penlight again.  “There’s not a shy bone in his body.”

“I’m not shy.  I just don’t want to poked and prodded any more than I have to.”

“Well you have to.  Look at me,” she ordered, turning her light back on.

Elliot let her check his pupils and then his reflexes.  “Am I gonna live?” he asked when  
she was finished.

“Not if you don’t let me complete this exam.”

“We’re done.”

“Uh uh,” Nathan argued, stubbornly putting her hands on her hips.  “You aren’t going  
anywhere until I’m sure you’re okay.  I have ample reason to admit you to the infirmary  
right now and I’ll do it if that’s what it takes to protect you.”

“Let me get this straight,” Elliot asked in disbelief as he stood, “You’re not gonna let me  
leave until you look at my unit?”

“Got it in one.  Now relax and drop trou, Detective.”

With a frustrated little growl, Elliot glared at her as he fumbled with his zipper.  When he  
got his pants open he eased his underwear down until he was fully exposed.  He set his  
jaw and stared straight ahead but couldn’t quite suppress a wince as she began to handle  
him.  In spite of his discomfort his penis readily jumped at the contact, still excitable  
from the earlier, unfinished business.

“Sorry,” Nathan muttered absently, bending forward for a better look.  “I know this is  
embarrassing but on the bright side; everything still works.  Maybe you are related to  
Keller.”

“In sixteen years of marriage I’ve never been fondled so frequently in such short amount  
of time,” Elliot complained, cringing at the feel of his half-hard dick when she let go and  
backed off.  He knew his face was burning as he rapidly tucked himself back in.  “Can I  
go now?”

The door opened and Tim McManus poked his head into the room.  His gaze rested on  
Elliot who flushed again as he finished zipping up. 

“Something I should know?” McManus asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope,” Nathan declared as she snapped off her gloves and tossed them into the trashcan.   
“My original orders stand, but I want to see him twice a day.”

“Twice?” Elliot asked in annoyance.

“Yes, twice.  You can stop waking him up at night though,” Nathan said to Tim.  “I think  
we’re past the point of worrying about a bleed and he needs his rest.  Do you want an  
icepack?” she turned to Elliot to ask, glancing down at his pants.

“No.”

“Okay, keep taking your Tylenol then and I’ll see you this evening.”

“Always a pleasure,” Elliot grumbled as he opened the door wider and shuffled out past  
McManus.  “Did they get him?” he stopped to inquire, mentally updating his to-do list if  
they hadn’t caught the guy who had raped her.  Kiss Kathy and the kids, send flowers,  
find the bastard and put him away for the rest of his natural life.

“They got him.  He’s dead now.”

“Good,” Elliot replied sincerely before walking away.

McManus shot a puzzled look at the doctor then followed Elliot.  “Keller, wait up.”

“Keller!” Gerald shouted, waving madly from his bed and drawing the ire of some of his  
fellow inmates who were still trying to sleep.  “You be sure and remember to come up  
and see me some time.”

“Whatever you say, dear,” Elliot replied sweetly, sending Gerald into orbit.  Finally  
comprehending the social norms of polite society didn’t apply in Oz he blatantly adjusted  
his now fully deflated manhood and made a beeline for the exit.

“Chris?” an old man in the bed nearest the door called out.  “Have you heard anything  
about Agamemnon?”

“He’s fine,” McManus butted in before Elliot could even process what he was being  
asked.  “He’s in the hole which is where you’ll be as soon as Doctor Nathan clears you.   
What have I told you about digging tunnels?”

“But we weren’t digging, we were filling it in.”

“Yeah?  Take it up with Leo, I don’t wanna hear it.”

Elliot bit back his own retort, realizing Rebadow was half of the reason he was stuck in  
Oz sharing a cell with a man who apparently wanted nothing more than to get into his  
pants.  “Take me back to my pod,” he said to the hack who had brought him to the  
infirmary.

“I’ve got him.” McManus dismissed the guard and ushered Elliot out the door.

Still too pained to strut and lacking a decent audience anyway, Elliot kept his head down  
and allowed himself to be herded along. 

“You want to tell me what really happened now?” McManus pressed as they walked.

“When?” Elliot asked, looking up uncertainly.

“With the FBI.”

“That again?” Elliot groaned.  “Nothing happened.  I’m fine, let it go.”

“If they battered you...”

“What does it even matter?” Elliot interrupted, planting his feet and forcing the other man  
to stop and look at him. 

“It matters,” McManus insisted.  “Look, I’m gonna let Beecher stay with you for the time  
being if that makes you feel any better.  At least you’ll have someone to talk to.”

Elliot couldn’t help the sarcastic laugh that bubbled out of him.  “You’re all heart.”

“If you want, I’ll find another place for Halstead.”

“No,” Elliot blurted out.  He knew Dwayne was a piss poor safeguard against being alone  
with Beecher, but he was a safeguard all the same.  Then there was the fact that he  
wouldn’t survive in the general prison population for more than a day.  “You can’t just  
throw him to the wolves.”

McManus studied Elliot intently.  “What do you care?  Are you planning on pragging  
him or something?”

“Halstead?  Are you kidding me?  Have you seen the guy?”

“So he’s ugly.  Any hole in a storm.”

“Fuck you,” Elliot muttered in disgust and walked away.

Mystified by a compassionate Keller, McManus stared after him for a second before  
following.  “So that’s a no then.”

***

As he hurried to work Beecher thought surely Sister Pete had already heard about the  
situation in Em City and that she would probably attribute his tardiness to the broken  
pipe.  The truth was he could have made it on time with very little effort.  He chose  
instead to dawdle when the hacks let him back into his pod to get some clothes and a few  
other necessities.  In fact, he had stalled as long as he could hoping the angry red  
striations around his neck would fade given enough time.  Unfortunately, the longer he  
waited the darker the color became, finally deepening to a nice medium shade of purple. 

He knew he was screwed before he even opened the office door.  The hacks hadn’t given  
the bruises a second thought mainly because he hadn’t complained, but Pete was not a  
hack.  “Morning,” he muttered hoarsely as he hustled over to his desk, quickly turning his  
back on the observant nun.

“Good morning, Tobias.  I heard you had a little midnight adventure.”

“The flood, you mean,” Toby nodded as he turned on his computer then straightened and  
restacked the day’s worth of files while he waited for it to boot up.

“Actually, I meant when you asked to be housed with Chris Keller.”

“Oh.”

“So it’s true,” Pete sighed, sounding disappointed with him.  “You really did request to  
be put back in a cell with that… man.”

“Yes,” Toby said softly.  “He needs someone he can trust to watch his back for a while.”

“Gloria says he reported some memory loss?” Pete inquired doubtfully as she got up and  
moved to stand behind Toby.

God how his throat hurt, Toby thought as he swallowed painfully and tried to play down  
his emotions.  “You sound skeptical,” he managed to say without giving anything away.

“This is Chris we’re talking about; the master manipulator.  I don’t suppose it’s occurred  
to you that he might be up to something.”

“He’s not lying,” Toby breathed fiercely, finally turning around to glower at her.

Pete gasped as she saw the finger shaped marks around his throat.  “What did he do to  
you?”

“It was my fault,” Toby declared promptly.  “I touched him.  In hindsight I guess I  
shouldn’t have.”

“You touched him so he tried to strangle the life out of you?  That’s not acceptable and  
you know it, Tobias!  I’m turning him in,” Pete exclaimed as she raced back to her desk  
and grabbed the phone.

“Wait!” Toby begged, getting there a second later and gently wrestling the receiver from  
her hand.  “Please, Sister, just wait.  Let me explain.”

“Yes, please do,” Pete said haughtily, her nostrils flaring with anger as she stood toe to  
toe with him, looking up into his face.  “Explain to me how Chris tried to kill you and it’s  
all your fault.”

“He didn’t try to kill me.  If he’d really meant to do it, I would be dead.”

“Oh, so now he’s into torturing you.  Please tell me this wasn’t an attempt at erotic  
asphyxiation.”

“I … what?” Toby squeaked as he put down the phone and backed away.  “No!  And I  
told you, I touched him first.”

“Sexually, you mean?” Pete demanded.  “Are you telling me that you were the  
instigator?”

“Yes,” Toby admitted reluctantly.  “Last night Chris asked me to back off.  He said he  
knows me but he doesn’t remember this thing between us.  He said he needed some  
time.”

“And you touched him anyway?”

“I know I shouldn’t have, but Keller associates emotional support with sex,” Toby tried  
to explain, searching her eyes for understanding.  “Actually, Keller associates everything  
with sex, but that’s beside the point.  I know it’s fucked up but that’s the way he is.”

“You just wanted to comfort him?” Pete asked, her face softening slightly in empathy.

“Yes,” Toby hissed in relief that she followed his reasoning.  “He seems so lost.  I didn’t  
know what else to do to let him know I was there for him.”

“I take it he didn’t appreciate the gesture.”  Pete walked around the desk and thumbed  
through her appointment book to make sure she had nothing scheduled.

“Well, I didn’t exactly wake him up and ask permission.  I just sort of took matters into  
my own hand, if you know what I mean.”

Pete didn’t bat an eye. “You gave him a hand job while he was asleep.”

“He woke up, freaked out, and we got tangled up for a minute.  When I was finally able  
to let go he grabbed me by the throat.  For a minute I thought he was going to kill me,”  
Toby shuddered, remembering the look in Chris’ eyes.  “In that instant I didn’t even  
recognize him.  He was in pain and furious, but under all that he was… afraid.  Of me.   
No way would he ever fake that, Sister.  Not in a million years.”

Easing down into her seat, Pete fingered the edge of the desk. “Tobias,” she began  
thoughtfully, “I know you and Chris once had a very intimate relationship.  I don’t want  
you to violate any confidences, but I am curious.”

Toby blinked nervously.  “About?”

“Has Chris ever suggested that he might have been abused as a child?”

“You mean molested?  No, he would never admit to something like that.  Do you think he  
was?”

“That is the case with almost all sexual predators.”

“Don’t call him that,” Toby scolded evenly.  “I know what he did to me and what he tried  
to do to you, but he’s not a monster.  He’s not,” he added a little softer.

“Your capacity to forgive is impressive, Tobias,” Pete soothed, “but perhaps in this case  
it’s not wise.”

“And maybe in this case yours needs some work,” Toby shot back.  “He’s hurt and he’s  
scared.  And you won’t even try to help him because your personal feelings are in the  
way.”

Stung by the accusation and shamed by the truth of it, Pete turned to scrutinize the  
crucifix on the wall.  “I don’t know if I can,” she whispered, clutching at her sweater.

“Just talk to him,” Toby urged, his voice already strained by the lengthy conversation.   
“He’s not the same man who used you to get to me. You’ll see.”

Pete said a silent prayer then crossed herself before turning back to Toby.  “I’ll try,” she  
promised, getting a little misty-eyed.

“Thank you,” Toby said earnestly before sitting down at his desk to get to work.  As an  
afterthought he turned back to Pete.  “You do know that Chris was in a cell with  
Schillinger when he was only seventeen.  Could that be where this is coming from?”

“Could be, but I suspect it runs deeper than that.  Either way you should tread lightly.  If  
Chris truly has lost his memory, he may be reacting to some long buried feelings.”

“Flash backs?”

“It’s possible.  Human memory is a strange and wonderful thing.  We’ve barely scratched  
the surface in that area of research.”

There was a tap on the door as it opened slowly.  “Pete?”

“Gloria, what can I do for you?” Pete greeted as she surreptitiously wiped her eyes.

“Actually, I came to see Beecher,” Nathan explained, wincing when she got a look at  
him.  “Wow, Keller really did a number on you.”

“He told you?” Toby asked incredulously as she stepped forward and began to palpate his  
neck.

“Yeah, he was worried he might have hurt you, but I didn’t think it would be this bad.   
Did you lose consciousness?”

“No.” Toby flinched at the light touch.  “Did he tell you the whole story?”

“Yeah he did.  Listen, Beecher, I would keep my hands to myself for a while if I were  
you.  Chris isn’t quite himself right now.”

“It’s funny, we were just discussing that very subject,” Pete replied.  “Are you sure this  
isn’t just a trick of some kind?” she couldn’t help but ask.

Nathan paused as she straightened up and laid a reassuring hand on Toby’s shoulder.   
“Are you questioning my medical judgment?” she asked as she turned to Pete, avoiding  
the question altogether.

“Of course not,” Pete huffed in surprise at the doctor’s defensive attitude. 

“Keller will be back to normal in a couple of days.  Just give him some space,” Nathan  
advised Toby.  “You’ve got some soft tissue damage and it’s going to be a little sore.  If  
you need something for pain Chris has a whole bottle of Tylenol and I’m sure he won’t  
mind sharing since he feels so guilty.   But if your throat swells or you have any difficulty  
swallowing come see me immediately.”

“I will,” Toby promised as Nathan turned on her heel and left the office.

“Huh,” Pete offered at last, completely flabbergasted by her friend’s odd behavior.


	15. part 15

Over an hour late, Olivia didn’t even stop at her desk as she entered the squadroom and  
headed straight for her commander’s office.  “Captain,” she called as she hesitated in the  
open doorway.

“What’s up?” Cragen asked worriedly, motioning her in. 

Olivia closed the door and took a seat.  “There’s a problem.  Elliot is going to be stuck in  
Oz longer than the FBI anticipated.”

“Is he all right?”

“They don’t know yet.  Chris, uh, his brother is concerned.  He thinks I should try to get  
Elliot out as soon as possible.  What do you think?”

“I think he never should have gone in in the first place,” Cragen answered seriously.

“Can’t we call someone?”

Cragen shook his head dubiously.  “One Police Plaza is hot for this operation.  They’re  
looking at it as the beginning of a newfound cooperation with the Feds.  They’re hoping  
it will work both ways.”

“At the risk of Elliot’s life?”

“They don’t see it that way.”

“We have to do something,” Olivia insisted.  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.  Long  
term someone in there is going to catch on.”

“I know.”  Cragen cleared his throat and lifted a file from his desk.  “I’ve been doing a  
little research.  This Keller is bad news.”

Olivia frowned as she accepted the folder but she didn’t protest and she didn’t open it.

“In fact the FBI likes him for a string of homosexual rapes and murders.”

“And they don’t have a single shred of solid evidence,” Olivia spat out, surprising herself  
by defending Chris at all, let alone so stringently.

If it surprised Cragen, he didn’t let on.  “Given the number of unsolved gay homicides in  
New York City over the years I think it would be remiss of us not to at least interview  
this guy,” he went on unaffectedly.

“Interview him,” Olivia parroted, quickly catching on.  “At Oz.”

Cragen met her eyes.  “Feel like a road trip?”

“I’m on it,” Olivia grinned as she fought the urge to kiss her boss on his brilliant, bald  
head.  Instead she jumped to her feet and hurried out the door.

“I’ll make the arrangements,” Cragen yelled after her.

“Liv,” Fin greeted as she rushed by.  “How’s Elliot?”

“I’ll let you know,” Olivia called back to him without slowing down.

***

Elliot stared out from his pod as he scratched his stubbly chin and contemplated a dry  
shave just to have something to do to take his mind off less pleasant thoughts.  But on  
further reflection he decided the cheap yellow Bic would probably just make his face itch  
even worse without soap and water so he idly ditched the idea.  For a while he watched  
the workmen below tear up the floor revealing part of the infamous tunnel but even that  
failed to keep him from dwelling on the one thing he really didn’t want to think about. 

With no one around he was tempted to try to phone home but the calls were randomly  
monitored and recorded and he couldn’t take the chance.  Frankly, he was bored silly and  
trapped with nothing to do except think about getting jacked off by another man.  Since  
there was no chance his mark would be coming anywhere near Emerald City for the next  
few days he knew he was doomed to this fate.  He decided to see if Nathan would at least  
put him back on a work detail if not let him go to the gym.  It might be more dangerous,  
but rambling around inside his own head wasn’t all that safe at the moment either.

Looking back down he thought Em City might as well be a ghost town.  A couple hacks  
hung out along the periphery of the work area to keep any stray inmates away from the  
tools and the big gaping hole in the floor.  A few more wandered in and out of other  
locations around the cell block but the common area was empty. Even though almost all  
the prisoners had day jobs he couldn’t take advantage of the privacy for a shower while  
the water was still shut off.  And he was really starting to need one.  It sucked to be him.

Movement in the guard station caught Elliot’s eye and he watched Murphy hang up the  
phone and step out onto the landing.  “Keller, let’s go,” he called up to him, waving him  
towards the gate.

Even if he had no idea where he was going, at least he was doing something so Elliot  
didn’t complain as he headed for the stairs.  “What’s up, boss?” he asked when he  
reached the base of the tower after quickly crossing the commons.

“Riemondo wants to see you.”

The name didn’t ring any bells but Murphy acted like he should know what he was  
talking about so Elliot played it cool and followed the other hack who was waiting by the  
gate.  They walked in silence, threading through the halls until they came to an area that  
looked more like offices than a prison.  The guard knocked on a door then stepped back.

“Come in,” a woman’s voice called from inside.

Puzzled, Elliot glanced at his escort then turned the knob and opened the door to run face  
to face into Beecher.  Instinctively he took a step back.

“Chris,” Toby croaked out, sounding a lot like a frog.

Elliot flexed his fingers on his thigh but didn’t outright cover his groin.  Reminding  
himself that the incident had been more a case of mistaken identity than anything else he  
fought down the urge to punch the man. Then his eyes were drawn to Toby’s neck and  
guilt hit him solidly in the gut.  “I’m sorry,” he muttered through a dry mouth.

“No, it was my fault,” Toby confessed remorsefully.  “I’m so sorry.  I didn’t mean to, you  
know, twist you like that,” he added taking a rueful glance at Elliot’s crotch.

“It’s better now,” Elliot answered, squirming under the unwanted scrutiny.

“Tobias, why don’t you wait in the hall,” the small, older woman watching the scene  
suggested.  By the tone of her voice it was not so much a suggestion as an order so Toby  
complied after another brief but intense stare deep into Elliot’s eyes. 

“Come in, Chris,” the lady urged as Elliot lingered in the door. 

‘Riemondo’ Elliot thought to himself again, still not making the connection.  He entered  
the office cautiously, jumping when someone in the hall, either Beecher or the guard,  
closed the door behind him.  He swept the room with a skilled eye looking for a clue to  
the woman’s identity. When he spotted the crucifix on the wall near the desk Chris’  
description fell into place. 

The little bitty thing with some gray in her dark hair was none other than Peter Marie  
Riemondo, the psychologist nun who hated his brother.  “Sister,” Elliot addressed her  
guardedly, his own disdain for shrinks bleeding through. 

Pete looked taken aback.  “You didn’t recognize me,” she said in surprise.

“Sure I did,” Elliot denied after a beat, taking a chair that hadn’t been offered.  “What do  
you want?”

“Don’t lie to me, Chris,” Pete admonished as she went around her desk to sit down as  
well.  “I may not be as good at reading people as you are but I know when someone is out  
of their depths.  You had no idea who I was when you came into this room.  Did you?”

Elliot clenched his jaw and looked down at his hands.  “No, I didn’t,” he went with the  
truth.  Determined not to let her get anything further out of him he sat stock still and  
looked back up at her with his best poker face in place.

Resting her chin in her hand Pete watched him without another word, waiting him out.   
But Elliot was game for a standoff especially since he had nothing to say.  In fact spilling  
his guts might prove to be downright dangerous.  He stared back at her emotionlessly.

After several minutes Pete cracked first.  “Am I to assume you don’t want to talk about  
it?”

“You know what they say about assuming.”

“No, what do they say?”

“It makes an ass out of u and me.” Elliot allowed himself a tight smile at her flustered  
expression.

“Clever,” Pete finally replied as she relaxed into her chair.  “Doctor Nathan assures me  
that the old Chris Keller will be back in no time, I guess she’s right.”

“Let’s hope so,” Elliot uttered ironically.  “Do you want to know how that makes me  
feel?”

“I spoke with Tim McManus,” Pete went on ignoring the sarcasm.  “He was curious as to  
what exactly you were doing in Gloria’s office with your pants down.”

Elliot went cold for a second then he smiled again and shrugged suggestively.

“Bullshit,” Pete challenged, surprising Elliot with the profanity.  “I suspect she was  
checking out the damage caused by Tobias’ misguided attempts at comfort.”

“Oh is that what that was.  See, I thought he was trying to get off at my expense.”

“No, he told me he only wanted to help.”

“Help himself you mean,” Elliot said.  “What did you tell McManus?” he asked abruptly,  
getting tired of everyone in his business.  He had always tried to be sensitive when he  
interviewed victims but he was developing a deeper appreciation for their loss of privacy.

“I think in this case it’s better if Tim were left wondering,” Pete replied impishly.

Elliot sniffed and nodded gratefully.  “Thanks.”

“Chris,” Pete said, getting serious again.  “I owe you an apology.”

“Stop,” Elliot insisted as he held up a finger in warning.  “This isn’t the time for that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look, Sister,” Elliot began thoughtfully, careful not to give too much away.  “I know  
you’re pissed at me but I don’t know why.  And please, don’t feel the need to fill the  
blanks because Doctor Nathan says it’ll all come back in good time.  In the meantime I’m  
kind of enjoying not knowing some of the things I might have done.”

“Fair enough,” Pete agreed after a moment’s deliberation.  “But we are going to have to  
discuss this bump in our relationship eventually if we ever want to get past it.  So let’s  
just concentrate on what happened with Tobias for now.   Tell me how it made you feel.”

“Are you joking?”

Pete rolled her eyes.  “I don’t want you walking around feeling like you were  
assaulted…”

“It wasn’t an assault,” Elliot interrupted, wanting to bite off his own tongue rather than  
continue.

“No, there was no malicious intent, I’m certain of that.  Nor do I believe you intentionally  
hurt Tobias.”

Elliot glared at her.  “I might have overreacted.  A little.”

“Maybe, maybe not.  At the moment upon waking you really felt you were defending  
yourself.  Those are very useful instincts in a place like Oz.”

“Yeah,” Elliot agreed as he gave up the hard-ass routine and rubbed his eyes wearily.   
“Can I go?”

Pete narrowed her eyes and studied him for another minute.  “I’m seeing something new  
in you, Chris.  You’re being very straightforward today.  I want to believe that under all  
your manipulations and self-centered neuroses that there is a good man who wants to  
come out.  Maybe that’s the man Tobias sees when he looks at you.”

Elliot crossed his arms over his chest and dropped his gaze.  He wanted Chris to be a  
good man; he needed to believe that he was despite all the evidence to the contrary.  “Can  
I go now?” he asked again, fighting to maintain his decorum.

“Of course,” Pete whispered, getting a little choked up herself thinking they had made  
some kind of real breakthrough this time.  “Why don’t you and Tobias go on to lunch?   
I’m sure he’s waiting for you.”

Letting out a frustrated breath because he was certain she was right about Toby waiting  
just outside the door, Elliot focused on the crucifix above Pete’s head.  The only prayer  
that came to mind was the AA creed.  ‘God grant me the serenity,’ he thought.  “Later,”  
he mumbled to Pete as he got up and went to the door.

As expected, Toby was leaning on the wall making what passed for small talk in Oz with  
the guard.  Gossiping, Elliot presumed; the prison grapevine in action. 

Toby immediately straightened up and stared at him.  “Are you okay?”

“Sure.  She says you can go to lunch,” Elliot told him, conveniently leaving off the part  
about going together.  “Can I go back to my pod?” he asked the guard in the same breath.

The guard shook his head.  “No dice, Keller.  Murphy said to take you to lunch after you  
got done with Sister Pete.  He was very specific.  He said he was still your mother or  
some shit.”

“Are you sick?” Toby turned to Elliot worriedly.  “You’ve got to be hungry, I know you  
missed breakfast.”

Elliot didn’t really need the reminder since his stomach was nothing but a hollowed-out  
ache.  And the nausea was almost completely gone now, too.  The problem was:  he  
didn’t know just how much he would actually be able to eat sitting next to the guy who  
had had his hand wrapped around his dick only hours before.  He wished he could stop  
thinking about it but it tripped every guilty Catholic switch he had.  Worse was the  
homophobic fear that on some level he must have enjoyed it because his body had  
certainly responded to the touch even if his mind had not.

“Chris?” Toby pressed, breaking him out of his thoughts as he reached for him anxiously.

“I’m fine.  Let’s eat,” Elliot replied as he abruptly moved down the hall before the  
concerned hand could land on him.  Toby quickly caught up and grabbed him to turn him  
around.  Elliot tensed, automatically making a fist. 

“This way,” Toby said softly, leading him past the guard back the way they had come.

“You girls are so cute together,” the hack smarted off as he fell in behind them.

***

Lunch proved to be easier than Elliot had anticipated, at least after he got over his  
battered alpha-male ego and finally relaxed.  In fact he had a lot less trouble swallowing  
the tasteless prison food than Beecher did, something that left him feeling fairly culpable.   
All things considered, his second meal in Oz was a hell of a lot more comfy than the first  
just knowing someone had his back.

That he found Beecher to be good company surprised him.  The man was educated,  
funny, and quite frankly better looking than most of his contemporaries.  And he  
obviously cared very deeply for Chris.  Weighing this against the other options Chris  
might or might not have during his fifty-plus years of incarceration, Elliot approved of  
his choice in partners and vowed to do whatever he could not to screw up the potential  
union while he was filling his brother’s boots.  Provided of course that Toby kept his  
hands to himself until the real Keller returned, otherwise, all bets were off.

Other than sitting a little too close, Beecher did behave as he ate.  Clearly happy in spite  
of his physical discomfort he engaged Elliot in a conversation that ranged from sports to  
politics to Busmalis’ impending nuptials that had been canceled due to the broken pipe. 

Just as Elliot finished his overcooked beef stew Ryan O’Reily sauntered over from the  
kitchen and took the seat opposite him.  “Hey, nice hickeys,” he told Beecher with a  
friendly leer.  Toby huffed affably but kept eating.  “I hear you’re gonna see Gloria twice  
a day now,” Ryan went on in the same tone as he turned to Elliot.

“What?  Is it published somewhere?” Elliot asked, totally spooked by the rapid  
movement of information inside the gray walls.

“I also hear you saw her this morning behind closed doors, just the two of you.”

Elliot pushed his empty tray back and tried not to show his rising apprehension.  “So?   
Being poked and prodded isn’t really my idea of a good time.”

“Since when?” Beecher smirked knowingly.  The comment earned him grunts of disgust  
and irritation from Ryan and Elliot respectively that made him grin even broader.

“Look, O’Reily, you still got nothin’ to worry about,” Elliot appeased, sending a  
sideward glance of exasperation Beecher’s way.  “I got nothin’ but respect for the doc.”

Ryan nodded skeptically as he got up.  “You just keep it that way,” he cautioned before  
stalking off.

“Putz,” Toby muttered into his Jell-O as he shoveled it in.  “He keeps forgetting just who  
in Em City helps him look out for Cyril.”

“Hello, Sweetpea,” a melodic voice crooned from behind causing Toby to tense up as he  
turned around.  Elliot shifted in his seat to get a look at the balding but trim middle-aged  
man who was smiling at them benignly.  His blue eyes twinkled with mirth but the two  
thugs behind him scowled fiercely.

“Hi Vern, I thought I smelled shit,” Toby greeted in a tone dripping with contempt.

“I see you two are back together.  Isn’t that special?  How are you, Christopher?” the man  
continued, resting his hand lightly on the back of Elliot’s neck.  “I understand you got  
your brains scrambled by the FBI.”

Beecher slapped the hand back before Elliot could even form the thought to push it away. 

“Leave him alone,” Toby warned with a dangerous sneer, showing a decidedly darker  
side of his personality.  Probably the side that could bite off a man’s dick Elliot thought  
with a shudder. 

“Oh, getting a little possessive, are we?  I thought that was Keller’s gig?”

Elliot was certain this unremarkable man was somehow very important to his brother.  He  
scrambled to remember the details of the impromptu briefing knowing he hadn’t been  
shown a picture to back up his memory.  Then it came to him.  Vern Schillinger, the neo-  
Nazi Chris had shared more than a cell with when he should have been going to the prom.   
Before he knew what he was doing he was on his feet lunging at the man with a growl of  
rage.

“Chris!” Beecher screamed, grabbing him the around the chest and holding him back  
with every ounce of his strength.

“You bastard!  How the fuck could you do that, you son of a bitch,” Elliot railed at the  
old man, wishing he had his gun.

“Easy there, Keller,” Vern laughed, stepping out of harm’s way.  “Is this a side effect of  
the brain damage?”

“I ought to kill you for what you did to him,” Elliot rasped out hoarsely, struggling until  
another pair of arms had to help Beecher hold him back.

“Keller,” a hack warned as he stepped between the two groups.  “Settle down or you’re  
going to Ag Seg.”

“Chris,” Toby begged in his ear.  “Let it go, it’s over.”

“Move along,” the hack instructed, wielding his nightstick threateningly to the gathering  
crowd as Chris stopped fighting and gasped for breath. 

“See ya, Beechball,” Vern called over his shoulder as he strolled away, taking his  
entourage with him.  “Bye-bye, Chrissy.  Thanks for the entertainment.”

The next thing Elliot knew he was being pushed back into his seat.  He dazedly accepted  
the bottle of juice that appeared under his nose and realized Ryan had a firm grip on one  
bicep while Beecher squatted next to him and rubbed a soothing hand up and down the  
other.  Cyril hovered expectantly, ready to take someone out at the drop of a hat as  
Halstead stood on the periphery looking just plain scared to death.

“I said break it up,” the guard repeated.  “Keller, you really need to calm down because  
you’ve got a visitor.”

Ryan slapped Elliot on the shoulder in the universal ‘hey, man, I love ya’ gesture and  
reluctantly pulled Cyril back to the kitchen with him.  Beecher shooed Dwayne away but  
didn’t budge himself as the table slowly began to empty.

“The warden sent me to get you,” the hack proclaimed impatiently.

Elliot chugged the contents of the little juice bottle then wiped his mouth with the back of  
his hand.  “Send ‘em away.  I don’t want to see anybody,” he murmured.

“It’s not your call.  A police detective came all the way from New York City to see you  
and Warden Glynn says you have to.”

“A policeman?” Elliot questioned dumbly, his brain still not quite functioning after his  
outburst.  “Not the FBI?”

“No.  And it’s a policewoman, actually,” the hack supplied with a grin.  “She’s a real  
looker from what I hear.  From the NYPD’s Special Victims Unit no less.”

“The sex police?” Toby asked.

“Jesus,” Elliot sighed, closing his eyes.  He wasn’t sure if he should be thrilled or pissed  
off but one thing was certain, he really, really wanted to see Olivia.  Staggering to his feet  
he motioned for the hack to lead the way then followed without looking back.

Toby stared after them for a minute then gathered both trays and took them to the  
trashcan where Ryan inexplicably appeared next to him.  “I don’t know,” Toby said  
quickly before O’Reily could start in with the questions, keeping his suspicions to  
himself.


	16. part 16

While it was true that Elliot had been in enough detention centers to recognize an  
interrogation room, from antiquated and decrepit to sleek and modern, he’d never  
anticipated seeing one from the point of view of a detainee.  He wasn’t surprised to find  
how much he preferred the experience from the other side.  The fact that the guard  
brought him here instead of to the visitor area was telling.  Even if he wanted to strangle  
her, he knew Benson had not compromised his cover.  To any casual observer she was  
just a cop doing her job and he was the con she had come to interview. 

The blinds were closed when they entered the room and Olivia stood next to the table  
trying not to gape at him.  “You can go,” she told the hack with as much indifference as  
she could muster. 

The guard glanced at Elliot before backing out of the room with an unconcerned shrug.   
“Yeah, sure.  I’ll be right out here.”

As soon as the door was closed they went to each other, Elliot enveloping Olivia in a  
hesitant hug, trying not to let on just how glad he was to see her.  “What are you doing  
here?” he asked roughly without letting go.

“Cragen sent me,” Olivia breathed into his shoulder, keeping her eyes closed as she  
clutched him back.  “We heard about the delay and we don’t trust that Fuller knows what  
he’s doing.  But we wanted to check with you before we stir up any trouble.  Are you  
okay?”

“I’m fine,” Elliot muttered unconvincingly as he released her and held her at arms length  
so he could see her face.  “It’s only for another day or two.  I can do it.”

“Elliot… are you sure?  You look like hell.”

“Thanks,” Elliot responded with an amused snort.  “I just need some sleep.  They woke  
me up every two hours last night.  Doctor Nathan was really worried when I told her it  
was Keller’s notoriously hard head that hit me.”

“You broke your cover?”

Elliot shook his head.  “Not exactly.  She had already busted me by then.  Apparently  
Chris has a couple of scars on his back that she feels kind of proprietary about.  Fuller  
brought her in the rest of the way.  I trust her.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m positive.  She cares enough about Chris not to rat me out.  So how’s he doing?”

“He’s fine except for the hole he’s digging for himself with the FBI,” Olivia reported  
unhappily.  “He threatened to kill both Fuller and Taylor if they don’t stop this  
operation.”

“He’s just blowing off steam.”

“I’m not so sure.  I don’t know what he’ll do if something happens to you.  Seriously,  
partner, you’re looking a little rough around the edges.  And I think it’s more than a lack  
of sleep.”

“I admit I might be a little stressed,” Elliot replied as he pulled Olivia over to the table.   
“It’s nothing a good nap wouldn’t cure.  Come on, take a load off.  You can stay for a  
few minutes, right?”

“I’m in no hurry to get back.  And the way I look at it, the longer you’re in here with me  
the less time you have to spend on the block with them,” Olivia reasoned as she took a  
chair.  “With the plan on hold it’s not like you’ll miss anything.”

“That’s true,” Elliot agreed, feeling worlds better just not having to pretend to be  
someone else.  “You must really miss me to drive all this way,” he teased.

“You forget I’ve been hanging out with your carbon copy.  It’s almost like you never  
left.”

Elliot managed a weary smile.  “Yeah, you probably know him better than I do by now.   
What’s he really like?”

Olivia shrugged and paused to ponder the question for a minute.  “He’s like you in a lot  
of ways,” she finally answered.  “Only… sexy.”

“What?” Elliot huffed in surprise.  “I’m not sexy?”

“I don’t know, Elliot,” Olivia winced.  “We have to work together; I try not to think of  
you that way.”

“So you’ve got the hots for my brother.”

“God no,” Olivia denied a little too quickly.  “He’s just… well he… I don’t know how  
else to put it.  He’s very sensual.”

“I’ll just take your word on that,” Elliot replied before he reluctantly asked his next  
question, one professional to another.  “Do you like him as a rapist?”

“No, I don’t,” Olivia answered truthfully.  “Chris’ game is seduction.  It’s all about  
making someone want him.  That’s where he gets off, having the upper hand  
emotionally.”

“So he actually is a sexual predator of a sort.”

“I didn’t say that,” Olivia hedged.  “But he is a charmer.  I’m just saying he makes it  
really easy to fall in love with him.”

“Oh?” Elliot questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Four ex-wives,” Olivia responded holding up four fingers.  “Well, three, but there’s  
gotta be something about him if one of them married him twice.”

“Right.”  Elliot stared her down for a minute then stifled a huge yawn.

“Am I boring you?”

“Not at all.  This is just the most relaxed I’m been since I got here.”

Olivia nodded and got up.  “I’ve got an idea,” she said as she went to the door and  
opened it, holding a brief conversation with the hack in the hall.

“What?” Elliot questioned as she closed the door again.

“I just ask him to make sure we’re not disturbed for the next forty-five minutes.”

“Okay.  Why?”

“Come on,” Olivia encouraged as she moved to the wall and sat down on the floor.  “Get  
over here,” she added with a long-suffering sigh when he didn’t budge.

Elliot finally shuffled to his feet but stood over her uncertainly when he got to the wall.

“I want you to rest undisturbed for a few minutes before I have to go,” Olivia explained,  
patting her lap. “I’ve got your back.”

“That’s a given,” Elliot said gratefully, grunting as he got down on the floor next to her.   
He balked slightly when she tugged his head to rest on her thigh but he trusted her and  
gave in to his exhaustion.  “This is weird,” he muttered as he got comfortable.

“Shut up, Stabler,” Olivia said affectionately as she rubbed his shoulder in small circles  
in an attempt to get him to loosen up.  Several minutes later she was rewarded with soft  
snores.  She checked her watch and passed the time by mentally breaking down their  
current cases; hoping inspiration might strike on one of them while she watched over her  
partner. 

***

Beecher kept his eyes on the gate as he dealt the cards.  He’d made an excuse to leave  
work early but Sister Pete had seen right through him.  That she’d let him go anyway  
only increased his concern.  If Pete was worried about Keller, too, it was worse than he’d  
originally thought.  And now, hours later, Chris was still conspicuously absent from Em  
City after not showing up to dinner at all.

The buzzing gossip mill didn’t help Toby’s state of mind any either.  Chris’ odd behavior  
had not gone unnoticed and prisoners and staff alike weren’t quite satisfied with the  
simple head injury explanation.  Even Toby had doubts.  Nothing stayed secret in Oz for  
long and he’d already received a few not-so-subtle inquiries from people who normally  
didn’t give a rat’s ass about Chris Keller.  Even Pancamo had expressed an opinion that  
‘something is hinky’.  The rumors ran the gamut from conspiracy theories to abduction  
by space aliens to the less outlandish and far more frightening idea that Chris had been  
raped while out visiting with the FBI. 

That one, Toby hated to admit, actually made a peculiar sort of sense.  It certainly  
explained a lot of things.  Including why a sex crimes detective had come for a  
confidential interview that had dragged on much longer than it should have.  And why  
Chris had been found cuddled up in the female cop’s lap when the hack finally busted in  
on them.  The word that came down from the guard tower said the policewoman had been  
extremely protective and had insisted on going to the infirmary with Chris when they’d  
had trouble waking him.

“Yo!  Beecher, I said three,” Hill’s voice finally broke into Toby’s troubled thoughts.

“I heard you,” Toby lied as he counted out the cards and slid them along the table.  “I  
hope you choke on that pair.”

“Easy, that’s the only pair Hill’s got,” O’Reily taunted, taking a swig of bottled water the  
prison had so thoughtfully provided.

“Fuck you, O’Reily.”

“Fuck me?  Fuck you, ya fucking freak of nature.  You know, you’re really starting to  
stink.”

“How can you tell?  Your ass don’t smell like roses either.”

“This whole place is a sea of body odor,” Toby added his complaint, pondering why so  
many people had chosen to go to the gym knowing they couldn’t shower afterwards.

“Pee-yoo,” Cyril wholeheartedly agreed without glancing up from his magazine.

“Yeah, we’re gonna have to hose Hill off in the yard if we don’t get the water back on  
soon,” O’Reily grumbled.

“Fucking mick.”

Toby huffed as he studied his cards apathetically and let the ruthless banter wash over  
him, wondering just when half-felt insults had become comforting and normal.  He  
wondered if normal even applied to anything about Oz.  When he looked up again all  
thought stopped.

“Shit,” Hill exclaimed as he followed Toby’s line of sight to the gate.  “We lost Beecher.   
Wanna play gin, O’Reily?”

“Fuck no,” Ryan muttered, tossing his cards into the middle of the table as he, too, turned  
to stare along with everyone else.

Keller looked surprisingly well as he sauntered past the tables on his way to the stairs,  
refreshed somehow.  He also looked like he’d recently bathed and shaved.

“How the fuck did you manage a shower?” O’Reily spat out irritably.

“Well they got water in the infirmary,” Chris supplied with a shit-eating grin, pausing to  
stand between the O’Reily brothers’ chairs, directly across from Toby.

“Hi Cwris,” Cyril greeted.

“Hey, Cyril.  How you doin’, buddy?” Chris asked as he affectionately patted the other  
man on the shoulder in a very un-Keller-like gesture.

Cyril beamed under the attention but everyone else at the table gawked.

“What?” Chris asked, dropping his hand warily.

O’Reily leered.  “You’re in a good mood.”

“So?”

“Got your wick dipped, huh?  By that lady cop?”

Keller’s grin faltered slightly as he glanced Toby’s way but then came back full force.  “I  
don’t kiss and tell,” he jeered as he turned to go.

“Fuck!” O’Reily swore enviously as he got up.  “Fucking fag gets all the pussy.”

“Kiss my ass,” Chris snarled, whirling back around and getting in Ryan’s face.  “Maybe  
it wasn’t the cop.”

“Back the fuck up, K-boy.  You’d better not even be looking at Gloria,” O’Reily warned  
dangerously as he kicked his chair away.

Cyril whimpered as he dropped his magazine and jumped to his feet.  Clearly distressed  
by the confrontation, he put himself right in the middle of it. 

“Its okay, Cyril,” Chris soothed, “We’re just fucking with each other.”  He glared at Ryan  
once more before walking away.

Having been almost completely ignored, again, Toby just sat and watched Keller go  
before gathering the cards and shuffling them.  “Who’s in?” he asked tersely.

“Who are you trying to kid?” Hill smirked.  “If you’re not up in Keller’s pod in the next  
five minutes I’ll eat my footrest.”

Ryan snorted his agreement before stalking off with Cyril following diffidently along  
behind him.  Toby dropped his head and sighed.

“Go on,” Hill urged.  “You’re the only one who can get close enough to find out what  
really happened.  Besides, he didn’t fuck anybody.  Robots don’t have dicks,” he  
mocked.

“Trust me,” Beecher told him wryly as he got up and handed over the cards, “This one is  
anatomically correct.”

“For real?” someone asked from the next table over.

Toby shook his head in amazement as he took off after Chris to a chorus of catcalls.  As  
always, everyone knew exactly where he was going but he didn’t really give a shit.   
Something was going to give, one way or the other.  When he reached his temporary  
home Chris was talking to Dwayne. 

“You gotta stay aware of your surroundings,” Chris scolded with what appeared to be  
real concern as he examined Halstead’s blossoming black eye.  “Things change around  
here too damn fast to get complacent.”

Dwayne nodded.  “Yeah, yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.  Thanks.” 

They both looked up at Toby just as McManus’ voice came over the loudspeaker. “Listen  
up.  The water will be turned back on in a couple of minutes.  We’re gonna hold off on  
lockdown long enough for everyone to get a shower, you people reek.” Cheers erupted  
from all around and Em City burst into activity. 

“Yeah, you really do,” Chris teased his roommates, his good mood resurfacing.

Toby stared at him distrustfully.

“Quiet!” McManus went on louder to be heard over the rising cacophony.  “Showers will  
be limited to three minutes and there will be COs present to head off any bullshit.  You  
can shave in your pods afterwards.  Anyone causing trouble will be provided with  
luxurious accommodations in the hole for the next week.  Please proceed in an orderly  
fashion.  That is all.” 

Dwayne bit his lip as he longingly glanced down at the rush of bodies already heading for  
the shower room. 

“You might as well,” Chris encouraged.  “With guards present it’ll probably be the safest  
shower you’ll ever take at Oz.”

“What about you?” Dwayne asked hopefully.

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Okay,” Dwayne muttered unhappily, still hanging on to the hope of gaining a protector.   
He undressed and wrapped a towel around his waist before grabbing his soap and  
leaving.  Meanwhile Toby stood wordlessly by the door with his arms crossed over his  
chest.

“Aren’t you just Chatty Kathy tonight?” Chris commented as he located a clean, long  
sleeved shirt.

“You missed dinner,” Toby said quietly.

“Nathan got me a tray while I was in the infirmary.”

“Was that before or after your private shower?”

“After,” Chris replied, giving Toby an assessing look.

“What’s really going on, Chris?”

Chris paused as he grabbed the bottom edge of his wifebeater.  “What do you mean?   
Toby?” he pressed when he didn’t get an answer.

“Toby,” Beecher echoed cynically.

“What?”

“Before your memory problem you hadn’t called me Toby since…”

“Whoa, we had a deal,” Chris butted in a little too hastily, releasing his shirt to hold up  
his hands as if warding off Toby’s words.

“You call me Beecher or Beech or bitch, but you hardly ever call me Toby anymore.”

“I used to, though, right?” Chris asked cautiously.  “Back before… whatever.”

“Back before I accused you of killing my child.  Yes.”

As the air rushed out of his lungs Chris fell against the wall for support.  “I didn’t…” he  
stammered, his face suddenly pale.

“God, no!” Toby hastened to assure him.  “Schillinger set you up.  Nevertheless, I should  
have known you had nothing to do with it.  I don’t blame you for feeling betrayed.  After  
all, I did try to kill you.  But I was out of my mind with grief; they sent me my son’s hand  
before they killed him for Christ sake.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Chris managed through his shock, his eyes suspiciously bright.   
“Parents should not have to outlive their children.”

“Part of me died with him,” Toby said with a sniff, stunned by Chris’ grasp of that  
particular concept as he wiped at his eye with the back of his hand.

“Beecher…”

“Oh, it’s Beecher again.”

Chris dropped his head back and looked at the ceiling with a sigh of frustration.  “What  
should I call you then?”

“Look, people are talking about you.  Just stop trying to do what you think everyone  
expects and be yourself.  And don’t tell me you don’t remember how.”

“Fuck you, Beecher,” Chris growled, ripping his shirt off and tossing it into his  
footlocker as he moved back into the center of the pod.  “Is that better?” he asked  
sarcastically as he turned to face him.

As Toby dipped his head dolefully he found himself staring at Chris’ perfect right pec.  
Hiding a gasp as he turned away to clutch at the glass, he choked back a hysterical laugh.   
With all the talk of aliens and robots and ironically, pod people, how fucking ridiculous,  
how fucking wrong was it that Chris’ ugly red gunshot scar had also mysteriously  
disappeared.  Nobody healed that well.  Nobody.

“I’m sorry, Toby,” Chris sighed again, his voice sounding slightly muffled as he pulled  
the fresh shirt over his head.  “I just don’t know what you want from me.”

Almost overcome with panic, Toby panted slightly as he tried to calm himself down.   
He’d already seen Chris naked since he got back, but he hadn’t noticed anything then  
except for the other missing scars.  Thinking back, Chris had been far too reticent in the  
shower, carefully keeping his back turned just so.  That should have been enough to  
trigger some warning bells.  Of course he’d been a bit preoccupied at the time trying to  
score a kiss, especially when they’d stood face to face. 

Since he didn’t believe in aliens or robots, conspiracy seemed the next best bet.  He  
didn’t know why or how, but he did know the man behind him was not the man he loved.   
Suddenly furious, he put a lid on his tumultuous emotions and slowly turned back around  
to face his very own Stepford Keller. 

Knowing made all the difference as he scrutinized the charlatan.  The navy thermal fit in  
all the right places, hiding the sins of omission.  But the bewildered facial expression was  
off, inquisitive and analytical where it should have been rigid and irate.  There was a  
haunted quality to the eyes, like someone who cared too much, too often and got burned,  
not the self-possessed passion of a predator.  How could he have looked into those eyes  
and ever thought this man was Chris?  How could he prove he wasn’t?

“Kiss me,” Toby demanded suddenly, placing his body between the imposter and the  
door.

“No,” came the uneasy answer.

“One kiss and I’ll never bother you again,” Toby goaded with a wicked smile, knowing  
he’d already won; beat the con man’s con.

“Fuck off.” 

The fear was back, Toby could smell it as he leisurely advanced.  It made him bolder,  
more confident in his analysis.  Right up until the man stood his ground and refused to  
back away.  In anger the face transformed back into something more familiar, more…  
Keller. 

Toby hesitated, tipping his hand and letting his certain victory slip through his fingers.   
“Who are you?” he asked with barely any breath behind the words. 

An instant later the tables were turned as he was shoved against the wall and his lips were  
claimed in a savage kiss, not in ardor but desperation.  Wrong, wrong, wrong, Toby  
thought as he bucked, wrenching his head away.  Hard fingers grasped his chin roughly  
and the mouth was back, even more demanding.  With his throat still smarting from the  
last attack Toby stilled and allowed the invasion of tongue and teeth. 

As soon as he stopped fighting the assault came to an abrupt end as the aggressor  
attempted to flee.  But Toby captured the man’s head and pulled him back, slowing and  
gentling the kiss, controlling it.  Once again, he had the upper hand and used it to his  
advantage.  As far as Toby was concerned, Chris Keller was the best kisser on the planet.   
Though not bad, Toby doubted this mouth had ever touched another man’s lips  
intimately.  He sought to remedy that even as he catalogued the discrepancies.

The taste was somehow different, the tentative style and pressure was wrong, the  
motionless hands that rested firmly on either side of Toby’s head while keeping their  
bodies apart were laughable … everything was off.  When he loosened his hold and  
pulled back breathlessly, the illusion of Chris was dispelled.  “Who are you?” he asked  
again with the strength of his conviction.

The now seemingly unfamiliar features fell making it obvious he’d thought for a second  
that he’d actually fooled him.  “What the fuck are you talking about?” the stranger asked  
softly as he wiped his mouth and tried to slow his respirations, never quite meeting  
Toby’s eyes as he moved away. 

When Toby followed, he flinched.  “It’s okay,” Beecher soothed deceitfully.  He reached  
out and grasped the hem of the dark Henley and tugged it off, surprised the man didn’t  
fight him.  “Chris was shot in the chest not that long ago,” he explained, fingering the  
smooth skin.

“Stabbed and shot,” the look-a-like cringed, giving up the masquerade as he pushed the  
hand away.  “Jesus.”

“Is Keller okay?” Toby questioned, comforted to see how much the other man seemed to  
care.

“Yeah, he’s uh, in an FBI safehouse busy trying to charm my partner.”

“So that was the woman who came to see you,” Toby mused as he sorted it out in his  
head.  “So you’re a cop then.”

“A dead cop?”

A harsh rap on the glass startled both of them and halted the conversation as they turned  
to watch Murphy enter the pod.  “Fucking or fighting?” he inquired as he leaned against  
the doorframe.

“What?” Toby asked as he handed Chris’ shirt back over to the man who’d been wearing  
it, watching as he quickly turned his tell-tale chest away from Murphy to put it on.

“Me and McManus have a bet since we didn’t see either one of you in line for the  
showers.  I said you were off somewhere fucking.  He said fighting.  So which is it?”

“Fighting,” the make-believe Chris blurted out, noticeably uncomfortable with the other  
option.

“Fucking,” Toby disagreed with an evil glint in his eye.

Murphy harrumphed.  “Either way I ought to separate you.  But seeing as how they won’t  
have the floor fixed until sometime tomorrow, I’ll let it slide this time.  Right now get  
your asses down to the showers, both of you.”

“I cleaned up when I was in the infirmary.”

“Dammit, Keller, I knew you was takin’ advantage,” Murphy grumbled.  “I’m gonna  
have a talk with Doc Nathan about that.  Come on, Beecher.  Grab a towel and your  
rubber ducky.”

Toby shot an unreadable look at his unidentified podmate as he quickly shucked out of  
his clothes.  The man didn’t glance off the way Murphy did, but he didn’t ogle him like  
Chris would have either.  “What are you going to do?” he asked Toby with barely  
concealed worry.

“I don’t know yet,” Toby said coldly as he shrugged out the door past Murphy, smirking  
as he felt the intense stare that followed him.

***

Elliot returned Murphy’s puzzled glance with a detached one of his own but as soon as  
the CO disappeared from the doorway he let out the breath he had been holding.   
Practically collapsing against the top bunk, he wiped his mouth again.  It had been a huge  
gamble kissing Beecher and he’d lost spectacularly.  Worse, Toby had known the whole  
time that he wasn’t really Chris and it had all been for nothing.  He wished he’d gone  
with his first instinct and knocked the little shit out and hid him in a stairwell instead.

Pushing away from the bed, he made his way to the glass wall to stare down into the  
common area.  Toby soon came into view and looked right up at him as if he had known  
all along he would be there.  Elliot held his gaze for a minute then turned away to pace  
the pod.  The man literally held his life in his hands; he didn’t want to antagonize him.   
Half expecting to be accosted by a mob of angry prisoners any minute, Elliot rolled into  
the bottom bunk to think. 

If things got too rocky he could follow the plan and fake a seizure to get sent to the  
relative safety of the infirmary.  He trusted Nathan completely and now she had a direct  
line to Olivia.  Seeing his partner had done wonders for his morale and the nice, safe nap  
had taken the edge off as well, even if he’d had a difficult time coming out of it.  He’d  
played it down and lied about his ever present headache, but Nathan was still concerned.   
If he played the wrong card she would pull the plug. 

And then there was Murphy.  He seemed like a standup guy who would do whatever he  
could to help a brother in blue but he was probably also loyal to a fault.  He wouldn’t sit  
on the information without going to McManus, who would almost certainly go to the  
warden.  However since Fuller had been so adamant that someone in admin was on the  
take he’d keep that option as fallback. 

But he still had a job to do and didn’t want to bug out until he knew what Beecher was up  
to.  Toby had once been a productive member of society, if you set aside the fact that he  
had not only been a lawyer but also a drunk.  Maybe he could be reasoned with.  He  
hadn’t shouted ‘cop’ yet and he genuinely cared about Chris.  Elliot was sure that was the  
key so he did the only thing he could do without blowing the operation.  He waited for  
Beecher to return.

 


	17. part 17

Having stayed at the prison longer than she’d intended, once she hit the city Olivia drove  
straight to the safehouse.  Seeing Elliot alive and allegedly well had been a huge relief  
and the doctor had promised to do her best to look after her stubborn partner.  She was  
still far from appeased but he had been adamant, he wanted to continue in spite of the  
setback.  Chris was not going to take the news well.

The thought of Chris did something funny but not entirely unwelcome to her stomach.   
She had to admit to a certain amount of… interest.  And it was getting harder and harder  
to chalk it up to his semblance to Elliot.  In fact it was the differences that intrigued her  
most; the blatant flirtation, the way he undressed her with his eyes.  The way he’d  
undressed in front of her with utter abandon, daring her to enjoy it.  And God help her, on  
some level she had.

The ultimate bad boy versus the honorable hero, if she could combine the two and keep  
the physical package she knew she’d have the perfect man.  And if wishes were horses  
beggars would ride she thought with a degree of melancholy that surprised her.   
Nevertheless, she allowed her mind to go places with Chris on the long trip back that had  
always been strictly off limits with her partner.  But now, standing on the outside looking  
in she found it hard to switch off the feelings those images had fostered. 

“Let me in,” she finally told the guard after ten minutes of watching Chris lounge on the  
cot thumbing through a magazine.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Chris greeted when she entered the cell.  He dropped the two year old  
copy of Newsweek to the floor as he sat up.  “I was just about to give up on you.”

“Yeah, uh… feel like a smoke?”

“You bet,” Chris replied, glancing at the mirrored wall.  “Hey, how ‘bout a cigarette  
break?” he called out before turning back to Olivia.  “They’ll have to clear it with the  
head dickweed, what’s his name… Fuller.  You must have worked hard today.”

“Actually, I hardly worked,” Olivia replied as she stood near the table trying to look like  
she hadn’t been recently fantasizing about him.  “Sorry I’m so late.  Did you get  
something to eat?”

“Sure, but the company was lousy,” Chris flirted as he sidled up to her, touching her  
elbow.  There was a thump on the glass and he smiled and waved.  “Speak of the devil.”   
The buzzer sounded a second later and two agents came in.  “This is Eddie and that’s  
Frank,” Chris introduced as he assumed the position without prompting. 

“I’m Special Agent Edwards and that’s Special Agent Franks,” Eddie corrected insipidly  
as if the joke was getting old.

Olivia stood out of the way while Chris was thoroughly frisked.  “Yeah, baby,” Chris  
grunted obnoxiously as Franks patted down his front pockets, giving the routine  
procedure a gratuitously sexual slant.  Another image Olivia didn’t really need popping  
into her head at the moment.  She glanced away, deciding to impart the basic information  
and get the hell out of Dodge before she embarrassed herself.

Franks glared at an amused Chris and cuffed his hands behind his back roughly.

“Ladies first,” Chris offered with a smile as the agents flanked him.  Olivia gladly led the  
way and several minutes later they passed through the kitchen and out onto the porch. 

Franks unlocked Keller’s right hand and snapped the freed up end of the cuffs around the  
handrail.  “Fuller said fifteen minutes and then its bedtime for Bonzo.”

“It’s not even dark yet,” Chris complained, accepting a new pack of cigarettes and the  
lighter from Edwards.

“It will be by the time we go back in.”

“Why don’t you boys buzz off so I can talk to the lady,” Chris requested, frowning when  
the agents didn’t immediately jump.  “Seriously, Eddie, you’re cutting into my action  
here.”

“Like you stand a snowball’s chance,” Franks scoffed as he moved away.

“Behave yourself, Keller,” Edwards cautioned humorlessly before heading to the  
opposite side of the yard to stand by the gate.

“Liv,” Chris said as he held out the pack.  “Hold these for a sec, would ya?”

“What did you call me?” Olivia asked in surprise as she took the cigarettes from him.

“Uh… Liv. What?  You don’t like that?”

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s just… that’s what Elliot calls me.”

“Huh.  Stand back,” he advised as he stuck the lighter in his front pocket and placed both  
hands on the rail to vault over it, landing gracefully in the grass beside the steps.

“Keller!”

“What?  I’m right here.  I still can’t go anywhere,” Chris retorted as he twisted out and  
away from the chain then pulled it back towards the door and down to where it connected  
to the porch.  “There,” he said as he settled sideways under the handrail on the middle  
step, fairly comfortable with his arm out to the side instead of hanging over his head.  He  
turned to Olivia and patted the low stone wall around the flower bed that ran parallel to  
the house, shrugging his eyebrows suggestively.

Olivia smirked as she came over to sit catty-corner to him in the shadows.  She handed  
him the cigarettes which he deposited on the top step as he deliberately moved his leg  
until their knees were touching.  “Don’t blow our cover,” he advised with a wink as he  
laced the fingers of his free hand through hers.

“Chris,” Olivia started to protest, a little disconcerted by the strong, warm hand.

“So.  What did you want to tell me that you don’t want Fuller to know?” he questioned  
quietly.

“Oh, uh,” Olivia stammered as she got her mind back on business.  “I went to Oz today to  
interview a prisoner.”

Chris blinked at the unexpected news. “Anyone I know?” he asked evenly.

“Mmm hmm.  He says he’s fine.”

“He’s a fucking liar.”

Olivia sighed and readied herself for the coming explosion.  “He doesn’t want us to  
terminate the operation.  It’s still a go.”

“Goddammit,” Chris boomed in frustration, drawing the attention of the guards.  “Fuck!”

“We’re okay,” Olivia appeased as she pulled her hand out of Chris’ grasp and stood up to  
show that there really wasn’t a problem.

“It doesn’t look like you’re smoking to me,” Franks noted as he came closer anyway.   
“You can talk inside.”

Chris grabbed the pack and used his teeth to open it.  “Happy now?” he asked as he  
irritably shoved a cigarette into his mouth. 

He stood up to fish the lighter out of his pants and in his haste accidentally brushed his  
forearm against Olivia’s backside.  “Sorry,” he apologized with a lopsided grin around  
the filter as he retook his seat. 

Olivia eyed him skeptically but didn’t comment as she sat a bit further away this time.   
Franks watched him light up then shook his head and went back to the fence.

“Cocksucker,” Chris muttered darkly as he blew out the first lungful of smoke.  “Sorry,”  
he told Olivia again as he tried to drive away the tendrils of gray that curled towards her  
with the hand that still held the cigarette.

“Don’t worry about it,” Olivia replied, trying not to cough.  “How do you know I’m not a  
closet smoker?”

Chris studied her attentively as he took another deep drag then turned his head away to  
release the smoke slowly through his mouth.  “I smelled you,” he finally drawled as he  
moved the cigarette to his cuffed hand and reached for her again.  “The first time we met.   
Your scent is too fresh to have such a nasty habit.” 

Against her better judgment Olivia willingly slid her hand into his, for once not seeing  
her partner as she watched Chris watching her in the fading light.  The intensity of the  
stare was exhilarating, intoxicating in its fervor.  It made her feel like she was the only  
woman on Earth.  She swallowed expectantly as he gently tugged her forward.  When he  
leaned towards her she parted her lips, breathing through her mouth in anticipation of a  
moment she’d spent far too much time imagining on the drive back from Oz.

“We’ve got to get him out of there,” Chris said in a low voice instead of moving in for  
the projected kiss.

“He doesn’t want us to do anything,” Olivia argued as she tried to pull back, unnerved by  
the force of her disappointment.

“Shh,” Chris soothed, caressing her cheek with their entwined hands.  “There are a  
million and one ways he can get caught and we sure as hell haven’t thought of them all.”

“If we interfere he’ll never forgive us,” Olivia insisted.  “I respect him too much to go  
against his wishes.

“I can live with that,” Chris swore softly, extending a finger to stroke her lip.  “I can’t  
live with Elliot’s death.  He’s the only family I’ve got.”

“Stop playing me,” Olivia blurted out as she jerked away from his touch.

“What?”

“You’re trying to manipulate me,” she accused, angry at him, angrier at herself for falling  
for it.  “You think if you hold my hand and whisper in my ear I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Just because I want what’s right for my brother doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with  
you, too,” Chris placated, hitting closer to the truth than Olivia wanted to admit.

“Well I’ve got news for you,” Olivia said coldly, “We’re not going to be together.  Ever.   
Not in any sense of the word.”

“No?” Chris asked with a cynical smile.

“You can make book on it.”

“So you weren’t just sitting there waiting for me to kiss you?”

Olivia felt her face flush.  “You arrogant prick.  If you really believe that you probably  
think I’m going to sit around and wait for you to get out of prison, too.”

“We both know I’m gonna be rotting in Oz for the next fifty years.  Gravity will have my  
balls halfway to my knees by then if I live that long.  I’m not thinking about forever, Liv.   
I’m only thinking of this very minute.  It’s all I’ve got.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Olivia warned.

“This may just be a bonus I haven’t earned, but it’s the last time I’ll ever sit at dusk with  
a beautiful woman and watch the stars.”

“The stars aren’t out yet,” Olivia pointed out sullenly as her resentment waned under the  
weight of his poignant tone.

“That’s what you think,” Chris whispered as he gazed into her eyes.  When he leaned in  
again she pulled away.

“Good night, Chris,” Olivia sighed as she stood, exhausted by the emotional tug of war  
between her desire and her common sense.

Chris tightened his grip on her hand.  “Get him out, Liv.”

“No.” She refused to be baited again.  “Try to have a little faith.”

He let her go and reached for his cigarette that had burned down almost to the butt.   
“Right,” he mocked as he took a final puff before crushing the ember out in the grass  
between his feet.  “Faith comes so easy for me.”

Olivia started to go but hesitated as he flipped out another smoke.  When he looked up at  
her she bent to buss his forehead.  Before he could comment on her change of heart she  
pressed her lips to his.  He dropped the unlit cigarette and buried his hand in her hair as  
she let him take the kiss as deep as he wanted.

“Keller!” Edwards shouted, already rushing towards them to protect her.

Breaking contact with a gasp, Olivia turned to shield Chris from any possible  
repercussions.  “Take it easy.  I kissed him.”

“Why?” The breathless question came from Chris.

“Because I wanted to,” Olivia answered honestly, still tasting the smoke on her tongue.   
“Just this once.”

“It’s time for you to go, Detective,” Edwards ordered, obviously confused by the  
confession.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Olivia told Chris as she trotted up the steps and went into the  
house without looking back.

“What the fuck was that all about?” Franks asked when the door slammed shut behind  
her.

Chris shrugged as he located his fallen cigarette and lit it.  He gazed up solemnly as the  
first few stars began to twinkle overhead.


	18. part 18

“What a madhouse that was,” Dwayne began timidly when he returned from the showers.  
His still dripping hair gave testament to the speed at which he had returned to the pod.

In spite of his own worries Elliot couldn’t stop himself from inquiring, “Did anyone  
bother you?” He knew he wasn’t responsible for the safety of his hapless cellmate but he  
was finding ‘to protect and to serve’ was not something he could simply shut off. 

“No, it was okay.”

“Good.” Elliot propped his hands behind his head and studied the toe of Chris’ boot as  
Dwayne puttered around the pod in his towel and prepared to shave.

 “It’s funny,” Dwayne went on, still treading lightly but obviously eager for a  
conversation that didn’t involve threats of bodily harm.

“What’s that?”

“It’s like everyone down there is giddy or something,” Dwayne explained as he slathered  
shaving cream on his light beard. “Like an extra hour not locked up in a glass cage makes  
any difference in a five to ten year stint.  Or a lifetime.”

Elliot shrugged as he stared pensively down toward dwindling line in front of the shower  
room.  “It’s a break in the routine.  That can be precious when every day is the same.”

“I guess I didn’t think of it that way,” Dwayne said as he started to shave.  “You’re not at  
all what I expected,” he added quietly without turning around.  “You’re smart.  And  
you’re the only person here who’s even tried to be nice to me in this hell hole.”

“Dwayne,” Elliot sighed culpably. “Don’t expect too much, okay?  You can’t rely on me;  
you’ve got to learn to stand up for yourself.”

“I know.  I just wanted to say thanks.”

“Yeah, well,” Elliot mumbled.  “Maybe I’ll find time tomorrow to show you some self  
defense moves.”

“Really?” Dwayne asked in amazement, finally daring a look over his shoulder.

 “Sure,” Elliot said soberly, wishing he could do more.  They grew quiet as Dwayne  
finished up at the sink.

“Count!” Murphy yelled a few minutes later from the guard station.

While Dwayne put on some clothes, Elliot rolled off his bed and ambled out to the  
landing to rest his forearms on the rail.  He spotted Beecher among the last few stragglers  
from the showers and followed his movement across the quad.  A cold fear settled in his  
gut as Toby looked up at him and smiled wickedly.  When Dwayne came out to stand  
next to him Elliot used it as an excuse to break the uncomfortable eye contact and turned  
to him to make small talk.  Toby arrived several minutes later and squeezed in between  
them still wearing nothing but a towel and a conspiratory grin.

Elliot leaned in close.  “What did you decide?” he asked, but Toby’s only answer was a  
dangerous chuckle that set the hair on the back of Elliot’s neck on end.  Making an abrupt  
decision, Elliot straightened and called to the approaching hack “I need to speak to  
Murphy.  Now.”

“Relax,” Toby advised toning his gleeful expression down to a smirk.

“Can’t it wait ‘til tomorrow?” the hack asked with an annoyed scowl.

“Yes,” Toby answered.  “It can wait.”

“Shut up, Beecher, I’m talking to your boyfriend.”

“It can wait,” Toby assured seriously, addressing Elliot directly this time.  “I swear.”

“Yeah, it can wait,” Elliot backed down reluctantly.

“Gee, that’s swell, Keller.”  Unconcerned with the dramatics and already behind, the  
hack began count.  “97B412…”

As their numbers were called and the CO moved on the prisoners peeled off to go into  
their pods.  Elliot headed straight to the back wall and crossed his arms over his chest as  
he leaned against it, never taking his eyes off Beecher who hummed maddeningly to  
himself as he gathered his clothes. 

Oblivious to the tension, Dwayne grabbed a book and climbed up to his bunk.  “I’ve got  
to admit, I feel a lot better after taking a shower.”

“You should try it more often, Stone,” Toby taunted as he pulled on a pair of boxers.   
“Your smelly ass kept me awake last night.”

“Leave him alone,” Elliot grumbled as he jumped to the underdog’s defense, unwittingly  
using the opportunity to vent his own fear and anger.

Dwayne’s head shot up but Toby snickered acrimoniously.  “Leave him alone?  You’d  
better watch out there, Chris, you’re out of character.”

“You know, I can understand all the other assholes around here picking on him,” Elliot  
continued to rant in opposition to the little voice inside his head that screamed for him to  
just shut the hell up.  “But you I don’t get.  You come from his world, not theirs.  From  
what I hear, you were just like him when you got here.”

“Oh is that what you hear?” Toby retorted.  “Well I wasn’t like him; I fucking was him.”

“So why do you bust his chops?” Elliot asked irritably.  “Oh wait, wait a minute,” he  
laughed as a figurative light bulb came on.  “I get it.  I see.  He wants a piece of what you  
consider yours.  You’re just trying to protect your interests.”

Toby harrumphed and bared his teeth in anger.  “Who are you to judge my intentions?   
Hmm?  Who are you?” he baited.  “If anything I’m trying to toughen him up.  If I make  
him wary, that makes him less vulnerable to attack.  Your coddling gives him a false  
sense of security that’s sooner or later gonna get him fucked up the ass.  Or worse.”

“I know that,” Elliot spat as he advanced on Toby who accepted the challenge and got  
right back in his face.  “I know,” he said again a little softer as Dwayne jumped down  
from the bed to hide behind him or back him up, he wasn’t sure which.  He wasn’t sure if  
Dwayne knew either.  “I’m working on it.”

“Keller?”

“It’s okay, Dwayne,” Elliot soothed, still staring Toby down as the cell doors engaged to  
Murphy’s vigorous cry of ‘lockdown’.

“It’s not okay,” Toby insisted obstinately.  “He made his bed; he has to lie in it just like  
every other cum stain in this place.  Welcome to Oz, baby.”

Elliot shook his head peevishly as he turned to a wide-eyed Dwayne and grasped him by  
the shoulders.  “I need a favor.”

“Anything,” Dwayne uttered breathlessly, clearly frightened out of his wits.

“Oh please,” Toby muttered behind them in disgust.

“Look, I know I might as well be a asking for the moon with the three of us crammed in  
here like sardines,” Elliot admitted, “But I need to have a private conversation with  
Beecher.”

“Huh?  What, uh, what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to get back on your bunk and read your book.”

“Yeah, just tune out any state secrets or plots to overthrow the government,” Toby added  
sardonically. 

“I trust him,” Elliot said, narrowing his eyes as he turned back to Toby.

“Hey, it’s your life.”

“Yeah, it is.  Just keep your voice down and try not to be too specific about anything.”

“Yeah, that’ll work,” Toby mocked with a sniff.

“I won’t listen,” Dwayne promised as he awkwardly patted Elliot on the shoulder then  
climbed back into the top bunk.  He opened the book then after a long stare from both of  
his podmates he turned it right side up and pretended to read.

“Read it out loud,” Elliot ordered gently.  “And face the other way.”

“Okay,” Dwayne rolled to his side away from them and started to read in a low, stuttering  
murmur.

Elliot took a deep breath and resumed his position against the wall meeting Beecher’s  
glare head on.  “I have kids, too,” he began softly, putting aside his emotions to bring the  
confrontation down to a more manageable level.

Completely caught off guard by the non sequitur, Toby didn’t have a sarcastic comeback.   
“Oh,” he muttered as he let the unexpected information sink in.

“Four of ‘em,” Elliot elaborated with a wistful smile.  “I miss them.”

“Do they know where you are?”

“No,” Elliot responded guiltily, noting that the intermittent pauses in Dwayne’s reading  
were already getting longer.

Toby slowly dropped the attitude and finally just stared.  “Surgical?” he asked after a  
while, circling his face with his hand.

“Genetic,” Elliot explained knowing Toby would follow.

“He never mentioned you,” Beecher said after another moment of thought, still sounding  
a bit skeptical.

“I’m not surprised.  We weren’t raised together.  I didn’t even know he existed.”

“And he agreed to this… this… whatever it is?”

“God no,” Elliot laughed.  “He didn’t want me in here.  He put up a hell of a fight.  In  
fact this is his handy work,” he added pointing to his bruised forehead.

With a wince of sympathy Toby came a little closer and lowered his voice.  “So what  
exactly are you doing here?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Tell me or I’ll out you,” Toby threatened, but there was no heat behind his words.

“If you do, I won’t last a day,” Elliot replied calmly.  “How’s he gonna feel about that?  I  
know you still love him and he doesn’t strike me as the forgiving type.”

“Must be a family trait,” Toby agreed, indicating his own colorful throat.

Elliot smirked and scratched his ear.  “Ya think?”

Toby grinned cheekily.  “All right, don’t tell me.  But I think maybe tonight you’ll suck  
my dick.”  Dwayne faltered and began the same paragraph for the third time.

“Maybe I’ll rip off your nuts and feed them to you,” Elliot quipped with a menacing  
smile of his own. 

“Maybe we’ll just be friends,” Toby conceded easily as he massaged his tender neck.

“So I can trust you not to rat me out?”

“Chris is okay?” Toby asked again seriously, just to make sure.  “You’re not here to fuck  
him over?”

“He’s my brother, I’m trying my damnedest not to mess things up for him.  And yeah, I  
promise, he’s fine.  He might as well be on vacation.”

They stopped talking when they realized Dwayne was no longer reading.  “Dwayne?”

Toby huffed, “So much for confidentiality.”

“Dwayne.  Look at me,” Elliot insisted.

The smaller man slowly turned to face them, shielding himself behind his book.  “You’re  
not him,” he stammered.  “You’re a… a cop?”

Elliot shared a pained looked with Toby, thankful he didn’t say ‘I told you so’. “Yeah.”

“You’ll protect me?”

“He doesn’t owe you anything,” Toby butted in crossly.

Dwayne swallowed convulsively, obviously not used to making threats. “I could tell what  
I know.”

“I thought we had an understanding.  Do you want to watch them kill me?” Elliot asked  
as he waved a hand to encompass Emerald City.

“I don’t want to get beat up, or f… fucked.  I don’t want to die.”

“Dwayne,” Toby argued impatiently.  “This is probably the only innocent man in Oz,  
how are you going to live with yourself if you get him murdered.”

“What do you care?  He’s not even really your, ah, your boyfriend.”

“No, he’s not,” Toby said as Elliot met his gaze silently asking the same question.  “But  
he’s practically my brother-in-law.”

“Jesus,” Elliot chortled under his breath.  “That’s sick.”

“Why?” Toby demanded, looking hurt and on the verge of losing his temper. 

“You know why,” Elliot explained uncomfortably as he motioned to his own crotch.

“Oh you mean because we had sex,” Toby inferred, a devilish glint coming to his eye as  
Elliot’s posture stiffened defensively. 

“We did not have sex.”

 “We sorta did, remember?  I jerked you off.”

Used to people forgetting about him in the middle of conversations, Dwayne watched the  
exchange with a fascinated revulsion. 

“No,” Elliot disputed heatedly, “you took advantage of me while I was asleep.  I didn’t  
even… finish.”

“But you enjoyed it while it lasted,” Toby baited cheerfully, holding a finger erect and  
slowly letting it droop.

“Fuck you,” Elliot muttered when he realized Beecher was only yanking his chain.  “What I  
enjoyed was watching your eyes bug out while I choked you.”

Toby faked an exaggerated shudder.  “You know, the thought of Chris as a cop is just too  
fucking scary.  Why don’t you just beat the crap out of Stone here and be done with it?”

Dwayne made a strangled noise in the back of his throat as he flattened himself against  
the glass wall behind the bunk when Elliot turned to him.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Elliot promised as he let out a noisy breath of frustration.   
“Let’s make a deal, okay?  If you keep your mouth shut I’ll look out for you while I’m  
here.  When I leave I’ll have them put you into protective custody while I try to arrange  
to move you to a minimum security facility more appropriate to your crime.”

“Will they go for that?” Dwayne queried hopefully as Toby huffed petulantly and turned  
away.

“Yeah, I think I can get the FBI to pull some strings.  They owe me, big time.  What do  
you say?”

“You’re a bigger idiot than I think you are if you don’t take that deal,” Toby swore a little  
bitterly as he wandered to the front of the pod and stared out into space.  “I would have  
taken it in a heartbeat.”

“Okay,” Dwayne accepted, reaching out tentatively to shake Elliot’s hand.  “Do I still  
have to read out loud?”

“Please don’t,” Elliot smiled, relieved to have brought one fire under control but also  
happy to help the poor guy out of the perilous mess he was in.  He shook Dwayne’s hand  
then patted him on the head and ducked into the bottom bunk to study Beecher’s rigid  
back. 

A few minutes later Toby sighed quietly as the tension drained away from his body,  
apparently done with his pity party. “You still have to sleep with me,” he said before  
turning around.

“Beecher…”

“I’m serious,” Toby persisted.  “I’m not fucking with your head this time.  No one will  
buy me and Keller in different bunks when we have the hacks’ blessing to share.”

“They’ll just think we had a fight.”

Toby shook his head.  “When Keller and I fight, nine times out of ten one of us ends up  
in the hole.  I won’t try anything, I promise.”

“Okay,” Elliot gave in grudgingly.  “I trust you with my life; I guess I can trust you with  
my dick.”

Having already heard too much man on man sex talk, Dwayne rolled onto his stomach  
and covered his head with his pillow.  Half a second later he flopped onto his back  
instead.

“You’re learning,” Toby praised before dismissing him altogether and addressing Elliot.   
“We’ve still got two and a half hours to kill.  You wanna play chess until lights out?”

“Sure,” Elliot answered as he sat up and dragged the footlocker around to use as a table.   
“I, uh, ran across it in here yesterday.”

Toby moved the chair closer while Elliot located the game.  “Look, I’m sorry, I can’t  
keep calling you Chris.”

“Call me Keller then,” Elliot replied as he began to set up.  “It’s not entirely inaccurate; it  
was my name for a couple days right after I was born.”

“So you were given up,” Toby surmised, reaching out to help.

“Yeah.  But I’m starting to think I got the better end of the deal.”

“You’re probably right.  Chris doesn’t ever talk about his childhood,” Toby muttered  
solicitously.  “You go first.”

Elliot made his standard opening move, trying to remember the last time he’d played  
chess.  He’d always meant to teach Dickie.  “Chris knew you would figure me out,” he  
replied offhandedly as Beecher studied the board.  “When he spoke to me about you, he  
referred to you as Toby.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Toby smiled softly to himself.  “In the cafeteria, when you attacked Schillinger, that  
wasn’t an act.”

“No.”

“At the time I thought it was because of me and I loved you for it.  Then later, after you  
kept ignoring me, I thought maybe it was for Cyril.  But you were really defending  
Chris.”

Elliot looked up uncertainly but didn’t answer.

“I’ll do whatever I can to protect you,” Toby vowed, making his move. 

***

The artificial dawn came abruptly with the ringing of a bell followed by a harsh buzzer  
and the intrusive overhead lights.  Usually able to hop out of bed fully alert Elliot blinked  
open his eyes but didn’t move as he wondered when the simple act of waking had  
become so complicated.  He groaned as he finally rolled into the warm spot behind him  
where Beecher had been a moment before.

“Not a morning person, huh?” Toby asked as he stood at the toilet taking a leak.

That he’d slept well didn’t really seem to help Elliot clear his mind and a minute later he  
was startled by a hand on his shoulder as a worried Toby knelt by the bed.  “What?” he  
asked in confusion before realizing he must have dozed back off.

“What’s wrong with him?” Dwayne asked, hovering a little further away.

“I don’t know,” Toby answered apprehensively as he felt Elliot’s forehead. 

Elliot snorted and he pushed the hand away.  “I don’t have a fever.  Why the hell do we  
have to get up so early?” he griped to cover his little relapse.  “And if you say ‘welcome  
to Oz’ again I’m going to pop you one right in the mouth.”

After a brief glance at Dwayne, Toby grinned in relief.  “He’s grumpy but he’s fine.”

“Let’s go you morons,” Mineo shouted from just outside.  “Move your asses.”

Toby grasped Elliot by the arm and helped lever him to his feet and they made their way  
out to the landing with Dwayne close behind them. 

“Keller?  Are you high?” Mineo questioned suspiciously.

“No,” Elliot denied automatically even as he swayed.

Mineo came closer and Elliot flinched when he reached out to lift first one eyelid then the  
other as he looked him over.  “Good thing Nathan still wants to see you first thing every  
morning,” he muttered.  “You look like shit.”

“Feel like shit,” Elliot agreed as he rubbed his aching head.

“Be ready to go in five minutes,” Mineo advised.  “I’ll send you out with the cafeteria  
workers.”

When they finished count Elliot took some Tylenol then brushed his teeth while he  
waited for Dwayne to use the toilet.  He put on a fresh shirt and finally got to pee, the pod  
seeming especially small with the three of them moving around in it.  As he sat on the  
bed and laced up his boots Mineo appeared back at the door. 

“I gotta go,” Elliot said to Dwayne as he got up.  “Just stay with Toby for now and I’ll  
meet you at breakfast.  Okay?” he asked turning to Beecher for confirmation of the plan.

“Yeah,” Toby nodded.  “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“Thanks.”

“Today, Keller, today.”

Elliot let out an exasperated breath as he pushed the door open and followed Mineo.

“Hi Cwris,” Cyril greeted as he and Ryan came out of their pod and joined them at the  
top of the stairs.

“Cyril.  Ryan.”

“So you’re on your way to see Gloria,” Ryan surmised, falling in behind Elliot.  “You be  
sure and tell her I said hello.”

“I can do that,” Elliot shrugged casually with no real intention of harassing the doctor for  
O’Reily.  “Hey, you think they might finish the floor today?” he asked Mineo when he  
spotted the workmen coming in through the gate.

“Yeah, I think they’ve stretched it out as long as they can.  They get paid by the hour, you  
know,” Mineo replied disdainfully at the perceived lack of work ethics.  “Things should  
be back to normal by lunchtime.”

“What’s the matter?” Ryan mocked from over Elliot’s shoulder.  “You getting’ tired of  
Beecher already?”

“It’s a little crowded,” Elliot answered carefully, kneeling down when they got to the  
ground floor on the pretense of tightening his bootlace to let Ryan and Cyril get ahead of  
him.  He wasn’t in the mood for play acting and decided he’d better back off before he let  
something slip.  Ryan eyed him skeptically but kept moving and fell into line with the  
rest of the kitchen staff.

“This one’s going to the see the Doctor Nathan,” Mineo pointed Elliot out to the hack in  
charge of the group as the gate was opened again.

The short walk seemed to revive him a little and by they time he was dropped off at the  
infirmary Elliot felt a little better.  Nathan wasn’t in yet so he sat on the end of a bed in  
the ward to wait.  Across the aisle an ironically black and blue Aryan glared at him but  
couldn’t speak with his jaw wired shut.  Elliot grinned and blew him a kiss for spite. 

“Keller,” Rebadow called from a few beds down as he wandered over.  “Are you still  
having troubles with your head?”

“Nah,” Elliot denied, keeping a wary eye on the skinhead who still glowered as he shifted  
around in bed.  “The doc’s just being cautious.  How are you doing?”

“I’m fine.  But Doctor Nathan insisted on keeping me here until my pod is fixed.  She’s a  
wonderful woman.”

“Yeah, she is,” Elliot agreed.  “So where did your buddy end up?”

“They finally sent Busmalis to solitary,” Rebadow exclaimed sadly.  “Warden Glynn is  
extremely upset with him.  I don’t think he’s going to let him marry Norma.”

“That’s too bad.  But maybe it’ll teach him to stop digging.”

“Good, you’re here,” Nathan greeted Elliot breathlessly as she breezed into the room.   
“Sorry I’m late, I had a flat tire.  Is everything alright?”

“Sure,” Elliot replied with a calculated smile.  “Can I go?”

“No.  So quit whining and get your butt into the exam room,” Nathan admonished as she  
borrowed a stethoscope from a passing nurse.  “Good morning, Rebadow,” she called  
over her shoulder following as Elliot unenthusiastically obeyed.

“Good morning, Doctor.”

A minute after they were gone Ryan O’Reily appeared at the door holding up two burned  
fingers.  “Where’s Keller?” he asked Rebadow as he entered the ward and looked around.

“He’s in with Doctor Nathan,” Rebadow replied with a spark of mischief. “She doesn’t  
examine him out here.”

“Is that right?” Ryan asked darkly.

“Yes, she always sees him in private.  She seems to be very at ease with Keller,  
considering.”

“Considering what?”

“Considering that he’s a cold blooded killer.”

O’Reily smirked as he stared at the closed door down the hall.  “You say that like it’s a  
bad thing.”

***

“So how are you really?” Nathan asked as soon as they were alone.  She walked past him  
to the other side of the table while he stayed in the corner by the door.

“I’m okay,” Elliot tried to assure her.  “My head still hurts and I’m having a little trouble  
waking up,” he added truthfully at her disbelieving stare.

“Nausea?”

“Nope.”

“Blurred vision?”

“Not at all.”

Nathan nodded as she propped her forearms on the exam table.  “How’s your other  
problem?”

“Other problem?  Oh, you mean…” Elliot flushed slightly as he leaned against the door  
and crossed his arms over his chest.  “Are you trying to get me out of my pants again?   
Because if you are I feel I should remind you; I am a married man,” he said with a grin.

“Your virtue is safe with me, Detective,” Nathan laughed.  “I just feel like I haven’t done  
enough to ensure your wellbeing.”

“Are you kidding me?” Elliot asked incredulously.  “You’ve been great.  I don’t know  
how I’m ever going to be able to repay you for all you’ve done.”

“I meant medically.  I should have sent you for a head CT at the very least,” Nathan  
argued.  “Ultimately, your health is more important than whatever this mission is.  Isn’t  
it?”

“I don’t know,” Elliot responded as if he hadn’t thought of it that way.  “I guess that  
depends on what I find out.  If the information saves lives or protects innocents then I’d  
have to say no.”

“That’s crap,” Nathan disagreed.  “But I can see I’m not going to change your mind.  Are  
you safe?  Would you tell me if you weren’t?”

“It’s okay, I’ve got backup now.”

“They sent in someone else?  Fuller didn’t tell me anything.”

“No,” Elliot fidgeted as he debated if he should actually tell her.  “Beecher figured things  
out… and, uh, Halstead.”

“Jesus,” Nathan exclaimed.  “We’ve got to get you out of here.”

“Beecher’s cool as long as Chris is okay.  And I made a deal with Dwayne.  I need you to  
start the ball rolling by getting in touch with Fuller for me.” 

“What does he want?”

“He wants to be moved to a minimum security facility.  Look, the floor will be finished  
today so they’ll begin transfers again.  I could be out of here by tonight.”

“From your mouth to God’s ear,” Nathan prayed.

“You getting tired of me, Doc?”

Nathan sighed and smiled.  “What is your name anyway?”

“Elliot,” he answered, feeling he owed her that much.

“You’re a good man, Elliot.  I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

“What’s your favorite flower?” Elliot asked unexpectedly.

“Flower?”

“Yeah, what’s your favorite?”

“I’m, ah, partial to daisies.”

“Daisies,” Elliot repeated as he committed it to memory.  “Can you do one more thing for  
me?  Can you see about getting Halstead moved to protective custody?”

“That’s going to be hard considering I haven’t seen him.  What reason can I give?”

“Tell them I told you he’s in danger.  He is.  He’s a walking invitation to get slammed.  I  
can’t believe he’s gotten off so easy this long.”

“I’ll work on it,” Nathan promised as she straightened up.  “Do you want me to order a  
breakfast tray for you?  Do you want a shower?”

“No thanks, Murphy already thinks I’m taking advantage.  I don’t want to get Chris on  
his bad side.  Besides, I have a breakfast date with my co-conspirators.”

“If I don’t get to talk to you alone again…” Nathan said as she came around the table and  
held out her arms.

Elliot hugged her and whispered into her hair.  “Thank you.  For everything.”

***

O’Reily couldn’t hear anything through the door and the nearest hack was giving him the  
evil eye so he backed off a little and positioned himself in the hall across from the now  
hated exam room to wait.  When the handle turned he straightened, his whole body alert  
and ready to spring into action. 

Gloria’s soft laugh drifted out as the door opened.  “You know Gerald begged me not to  
discharge him since he knew you’d be coming twice a day, you heartbreaker you.”

“Stop it,” Keller grumbled good-naturedly in return.

Ryan’s fears were confirmed as he caught a glimpse of Gloria’s hand patting Keller’s  
abdomen as the lying son of a bitch removed his arm from around her.  As they stepped  
out they both froze uneasily when they spotted him.  Keller glowered and started to move  
forward but Gloria shifted into his path, pressing her shoulder against his chest to keep  
him in line. 

“I can handle this,” she whispered in an intimate tone she had no business using on  
anyone but him as far as Ryan was concerned.

“What the fuck?” Ryan asked icily.

“What are you doing here?” Gloria demanded instead of answering.

Ryan held up his injured fingers, never taking his infuriated gaze off Keller.  “I burned  
myself.”

“How convenient,” Keller replied, matching Ryan glare for glare.  “Get hurt a lot, do  
you?”

“Hey, the kitchen is a hazardous place.  In fact, this whole prison is getting more  
dangerous by the minute, don’t you think?”

“Ryan,” Gloria rebuked.  “Go wait for me on the ward.”

“What, you’re not going to take me behind closed doors?  Or is that something only for  
the privileged few?”

“If you want me to look at your fingers go wait on the ward,” Gloria stood firm as she  
stared him down. 

“Sure,” Ryan said with no intention of moving until Keller was gone.

Gloria turned to look up into Keller’s face. “I thought you had a breakfast date?”

“You’re okay?” Keller asked her gently, further raising Ryan’s ire.

“Yeah, I told you I can handle O’Reily.  Get out of here.  I’ll see you this afternoon.”

Keller looked at her and finally nodded as he moved away.  “Later,” he said to Ryan as  
he brushed by him.

“Count on it,” Ryan called back, still seething.

***

Elliot managed a smile for Cyril as he accepted the dregs of the scrambled eggs,  
wondering if the food was any better if you actually got it when it was fresh.  He spotted  
Beecher and Halstead right away and sauntered over to join them.  Dwayne lit up like a  
love sick puppy the instant he spotted him and Toby looked more than ready to hand over  
babysitting duties. 

“Everything okay?” Toby asked as Elliot settled in beside him.

“O’Reily’s turning out to be a royal pain in the ass,” Elliot replied as he picked up his  
plastic fork and started in on his food.

“O’Reily’s always been a pain in the ass,” Toby assured him with a smirk.  “I meant how  
did it go with Doctor Nathan?”

“Same as usual,” Elliot shrugged.  “Why?”

“Did you tell her how hard it is for you to wake up?”

“Yes, Mother, I told her.  Jeez.”

“Forgive a guy for caring,” Toby huffed before polishing off his juice.  “Look, I gotta go  
to work.  I’ll try to get Sister P. to release me early today so I can watch your back.”

“You think she’ll go for that?”

“If I approach her the right way, yeah I think so.”

“Why do I suspect you have the good sister wrapped around your little finger?” Elliot  
kidded between bites of toast he used to sop up the soggy egg.

“Not me,” Toby grinned back at him maliciously.  “That particular merit badge goes to  
you-know-who.  He had her ready to leave the convent.”

Elliot winced.  “I don’t wanna know the details, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Toby nodded in understanding as he got up.  “I’ll see you later.”

“What about me?” Dwayne leaned across the table to ask as soon as Beecher was gone.

“You have to go to your job,” Elliot said softly.  “There’s nothing I can do about that  
today.  Where do you work anyway?”

“The dress factory.  It’s not so bad, I guess.”

“Just keep your eyes open like I told you.  I’m working on getting you into protective  
custody,” Elliot promised.  “It’s just going to take some time.”

“I know,” Dwayne mumbled miserably.  “I just wish you could come with me.”

Elliot didn’t answer as he finished his meal.  “Let’s go,” he said a few minutes later,  
picking up his tray and getting to his feet.

“Hey Keller, you get a new pet?” Schillinger called out to him as Dwayne followed a  
little too close behind him to the trash.  “This one’s uglier than Beecher.  You need to  
shave his ass and make him walk backwards.” 

The rest of the gathered Aryans laughed uproariously at the tired joke in a massive  
display of ass kissing, offering their own versions of how hideous they thought Dwayne  
was.

Ignoring the taunts, Elliot ushered an extremely high strung Dwayne out the door in front  
of him.  “Keep your head up,” he advised once they were in the hall.  “Stay aware of your  
surroundings.  If anybody bothers you yell for a guard.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dwayne muttered feebly.  “I’ll be okay.”

“You will,” Elliot agreed as he patted Dwayne on the back and sent him on his way.  He  
watched until the dejected form disappeared around the corner then started back to Em  
City. 

As before the place was almost deserted except for the workmen who were finally  
repairing the hole in the floor.  Elliot decided to take advantage of the lull in activity to  
get a shower and headed up to his pod.

“Don’t you think it’s about time you got back to work?” Murphy inquired as Elliot  
climbed the stairs past the guard station.

“Talk to Nathan,” Elliot suggested without stopping.  “Get her to give me back gym  
privileges while you’re at it.”

Murphy sighed and waved him on.  “Hold your breath,” he replied distractedly as he  
returned his attention to the clipboard in his hand.

Elliot smirked to himself thinking he might be a lot like the Irishman if he were a CO.   
He hoped he would anyway, but he doubted he would be able to hang on to the good  
humor for long dealing with the low life scum of Oz day after day.  When he reached the  
pod he located a towel and sniffed it before deciding it was clean enough.  Remembering  
the gunshot scar he didn’t have he opted not to strip out of his shirt this time so he  
grabbed the soap and headed back down without undressing.  If it was out of character,  
there wasn’t really anyone around to notice.


	19. part 19

“I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything,” Olivia promised before hanging up the  
phone and moodily slumping back in her chair. 

Kathy was sick with worry and she couldn’t really blame her.  She didn’t tell her she’d  
been to Oz, mostly because she didn’t want to put the idea of a field trip of her own into  
her head.  But there was also the smidgen of culpability that she ‘the partner’ had been  
the one who got to comfort Elliot, hold him while he slept, and she wasn’t so sure ‘the  
wife’ in Kathy would understand.  Especially since she already felt left out.  Surprisingly,  
she was also pushing to meet her long lost brother-in-law; the one Olivia had shamelessly  
tongued only twelve hours before. 

Olivia pushed that thought away for the hundredth time as she rubbed her eyes and  
yawned.  She’d almost been glad when she got the early morning call to an alleged  
rape/murder because she sure as hell hadn’t been sleeping anyway.  Luckily there was  
nothing about the naked corpse that remotely resembled sexual abuse as ruled by the  
medical examiner and Captain Cragen had been happy to lob the case right back into  
Homicide’s court. 

Feeling a little guilty for being out of pocket so much for the last couple of days Olivia  
had come to the station to catch up on things instead of going home.  Not that she could  
really concentrate.  Her emotions concerning Elliot and Chris and ‘the kiss that never  
should have happened but she couldn’t stop thinking about’ were all jumbled and  
confused in her head.  She dreaded seeing Chris again.  And she couldn’t wait.

“Yo, baby, where are you off to?” Fin drawled with a laugh as he sat on the edge of her  
desk startling Olivia out of her thoughts.

“Hey,” Olivia greeted sheepishly, glancing at her watch.  “I didn’t hear you come in.” 

“You catch one last night?”

“False alarm.  I just stuck around to catch up.”

“Before you go see Elliot’s brother, you mean,” Fin surmised as he got up to get coffee.

“I’ll go later,” Olivia said, making the decision even as the words came out of her mouth.

Fin wandered back with the pot in hand and topped off Olivia’s cold cup without asking.   
“It must be weird,” he mused.

“Yeah,” Olivia agreed knowing exactly what he meant.  “They are so much alike and  
they are so, so different.  But I think I can actually tell them apart now.”

“How?”

Olivia shrugged as she thought it out.  “Body language mostly, how they carry  
themselves.  And their eyes.  The real difference is in their eyes.”

Fin studied her for a minute then returned the coffee pot to its base.

“What?” Olivia asked suspiciously.

“I didn’t say anything,” Fin denied hiding a knowing smile as he turned away to fix his  
own cup of coffee.

“No, but you’re thinking something.”

“I’m just wondering how long later will be,” Fin grinned.

Olivia flushed, realizing she was already holding her keys.

***

Under different circumstances Elliot would have laughed at the sound of boots on the tile  
floor as he rinsed the soap from his chest and underarms.  It never seemed to fail,  
whenever he got naked in Oz somebody walked in on him.  Instead he tensed up,  
accidentally wetting the ace on his arm as he prepared to defend himself.  As he sent a  
cautious glance over his shoulder he was actually relieved to see it was Beecher. 

“Hey,” he said as he turned off the water and acted like he wasn’t still a tad spooked.  “I  
guess you didn’t have any trouble getting away.”

“Sister Pete has some… guilt,” Toby shrugged with a grin as he approached. 

“And you know just how to work it, right?” Elliot asked, moving closer to the waist high  
partition to grab the towel and dry his face.

“Well, yeah,”  Toby confessed as he leaned his elbows on top of the half-wall, making no  
attempt to avert his eyes from Elliot’s bare torso.  “I hate that scar, but I love it too, you  
know?  It’s part of him.  I don’t know how I didn’t notice it wasn’t there.” 

“I think the human mind has the uncanny ability to fill in the blanks for us,” Elliot  
responded with his best guess as he made a superficial pass at his wet skin with the towel.   
He pulled a face when he realized just how wet the wrapping on his arm was.

“I can’t believe you ever fooled me.”

“You were expecting Chris so you saw Chris,” Elliot replied on exiting the shower,  
trading the towel for his underwear that lay across the top of the partition with the rest of  
his clothes.

“You don’t have a butterfly,” Toby noted as he continued to make comparisons.

Annoyed at the ongoing scrutiny, Elliot snorted and stepped into the briefs, yanking them  
up his damp legs.  “Yeah, that kind of threw me.  A butterfly.  What was he thinking?”

“I think it’s sexy.”

“I’m sorry, I just don’t get it,” Elliot finally came out with the thing that had been  
bothering him most about Toby.  “I mean, you were married.  You’ve got kids.”

“Yeah.”

“So what’s the appeal?  What is it about Chris that made you want to switch teams?”

“You mean aside from the obvious?” Toby asked with a leer as Elliot bent to put on his  
pants.

“Uh, obviously it’s not so obvious to me,” Elliot retorted as he zipped up.  “You’re gonna  
have to give me a hint.”

Toby laughed and scratched his head as he thought it over.  “Um, okay.  You ever look in  
a mirror?”

Elliot nodded cluelessly, taking the question at face value.  When he caught on to what  
Toby was implying he shook his head in disbelief.  “You’ve got to be kidding me.  Please  
tell me you’re messing with my head again.” 

“Relax already; you don’t affect me the same way.  It’s more than physical,” Toby  
admitted to ease Elliot’s visible concern.  “Let’s just say Chris is a force of nature.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know how to explain it,” Toby sighed as he searched for the right words.  “He’s  
like a… a lava flow maybe.”

“Hot and dangerous?” Elliot scoffed, raising an eyebrow.

“I know you’re being sarcastic but that’s pretty close to the truth.  You’re drawn in by the  
beauty of the fire but you don’t realize how much trouble you’re in until you get close  
enough to sense the heat.  By that time you’ll do anything to feel the burn.”

“If you say so,” Elliot murmured as he began to unravel the sodden ace.  “Watch the  
door, would ya?”

“It’s not lust.  I’ve come to accept that my feelings for Chris are real,” Toby persisted as  
he checked to make sure they were still alone.  Then he watched curiously as the ink on  
Elliot’s forearm suddenly appeared.  “So that’s what this was about,” he replied as Elliot  
draped the bandage over his towel.  “You were a Marine?”

Elliot rubbed his arm, relieved to let it breathe for a minute.  “Yeah.  I keep thinking  
maybe if Chris had gone into the service…”

“They wouldn’t have taken him.  He already had a felony conviction by the time he was  
old enough,” Toby pointed out, picking up the ace to try to wring some of the water from  
it. 

“I know,” Elliot said unhappily as he pulled on his Henley.  “I’ve just got a lot of could’a  
beens running around in my head.  Do me a favor; don’t let me push up my sleeves until  
that thing dries.”

“Sure.  Someone’s coming,” Toby warned, stepping away as Elliot leaned his backside  
against a sink to put on his socks and boots. 

“What’s going on in here?” Murphy asked as he entered the shower room.  “This ain’t  
lover’s lane.”

“Sister Pete sent me to keep an eye on Keller,” Beecher declared as he turned, the poster  
boy for innocence.  “You can call her.”

 “Oh I will,” Murphy assured.  “Now beat feet out of here.  And stay out of close quarters  
so I don’t feel the need to separate you.”

“Come on, we’ll play chess in the quad,” Toby suggested as he led the way out past  
Murphy.

Elliot quickly rubbed his hair with the towel to catch a persistent drip and followed.   
“They done with the floor yet?” he asked.

“Not yet,” Murphy groused as he brought up the rear.  “What is it with you and that damn  
floor anyway?”

***

Chris prowled his room like a pent-up tiger and cliché or not, that’s exactly what he felt  
like.  It was bad enough the FBI had conned Elliot into risking his life for the cause,  
whatever the fuck that might be.  But they were killing him too, slowly but surely with  
boredom.  The only things he had to look forward to were the visits from Olivia and after  
last night, he wasn’t so sure she was ever coming back. 

He knew he would have made a move on her eventually, that’s just who he was.  But she  
had surprised them both and beaten him to the punch.  Then she’d run off like a scared  
rabbit.  Flopping down on the cot he threw an arm over his eyes to think about the kiss,  
examining it in minute detail in his mind, wondering about someone else’s motives for a  
change.

***

Elliot watched with interest as the workmen finally removed the orange cones from  
around the newly patched linoleum and began to sweep up.  When he looked back to the  
game he smiled.  Beecher was in dire straights and didn’t even know it yet.  He scratched  
his nose, pushed up his sleeve and made his next move. 

“Tat,” Toby uttered distractedly as he studied the board.  “Fuck!  You’ve got me in three  
moves.”

“What’s a matter, Beecher?” Elliot smirked as he adjusted his shirt for the umpteenth  
time.  “You a sore loser?”

“No,” Toby all but pouted. “I guess I’m just expecting you to play like Keller.”

“What, Chris can’t play?”

“No, he’s very good.  But I taught him the game and I know what to expect from him  
even though he’s picked up a few sneaky moves from O’Reily.”  Toby conceded, tipping  
his queen.  “You win.”

“One more?” Elliot invited with a grin.

“No time,” Toby replied as he checked his watch. “You can beat me again later.”

“Is that thing dry yet?” Elliot asked as he reached over to feel the ace Toby had hung over  
the back of a chair.

Toby got up and tugged it out of his hand as he sat closer.  “Lower your arm,” he  
instructed as he rolled the bandage and looked around.  A few people were starting to  
return to Em City before lunch but no one was nearby at the moment.

Dropping his elbow, Elliot tugged his sleeve up and held his arm below the level of the  
table so Beecher could wrap it unobserved as they huddled together.  “Shit,” he swore  
when he spotted the workers from the dress factory coming through the gate along with  
Ryan O’Reily who seemed glued to Dwayne’s side.

“Too tight?” Toby questioned as he fastened the end.

“No it’s fine.  But I think we’re got another problem,” Elliot said in a low voice, keeping  
his head down. Ryan patted Dwayne on the back in a way that suggested a friendly threat  
as they started towards them. 

“What’s O’Reily doing back?” Beecher asked.  “He should be serving lunch in a few  
minutes.”

“He was in the infirmary earlier with what had to be self-inflicted burns on his hand.”

“Why do you think they were self inflicted?”

“Because he’s not just a stalker, he’s also a fucking malingerer.  This way he can  
combine the two,” Elliot said with disgust.  He tried to make eye contact with Dwayne  
but his roommate looked strickened as he made a beeline for the stairs refusing to even  
glance in Elliot’s direction.  “Christ, Halstead spilled the beans.”

“Don’t panic, we’ll play it off as a bet.”

“I don’t know, Toby.”

“We’ll baffle O’Reily with bullshit.  Just follow my lead,” Toby said softly, looking for  
Murphy without raising his head. 

The head hack had kept a distrustful eye on them all morning, waiting in vain for them to  
step out of line but at the moment he was upstairs in McManus’ office.  None of the rest  
of the COs seemed to be paying any particular attention so Toby leaned in and placed a  
flirty peck on the corner of Elliot’s mouth.

“Is that necessary?” Elliot complained without actually pulling back.

“Trust me, nothing throws Ryan like a little mano a mano,” Toby insisted as he nuzzled  
Elliot’s cheek.

“Aw fuck,” Elliot muttered resignedly before taking the plunge and kissing him back.  As  
expected, Toby met him full force, presumably to make it look good.  He threaded his  
fingers through Beecher’s hair and pulled him even closer.  In the battle of one-  
upmanship Toby breached his lips with tongue taking the kiss to a whole new level.   
Whistles and catcalls sounded from all around.

“Hey!” Ryan protested, kicking the underside of the table to announce his arrival as he  
dropped into a chair.  “Knock it off.  We need to talk.”

“Keller!” Murphy shouted from up above as he rushed out to the landing having  
witnessed the spectacle from the window.  “Beecher!  This is your only warning.”

Toby grinned wickedly as he pulled back, reaching out to wipe Elliot’s glistening lower  
lip with his thumb.  “We’re done,” he announced.  “For now,” he added under his breath  
with a wink to Elliot.

“What’s up?” Elliot asked Ryan offhandedly as he caught Toby’s knee in a vice grip  
under the table to make him pay.

Ryan held his bandaged fingers up and to the side as if they hurt, but overall, he looked  
smug.  “I heard an interesting story today.”

Beecher winced and managed to wiggle free from the torturous hold as he repositioned  
himself next to Elliot, who leaned back and wrapped his arm around the back of Toby’s  
chair.

“Comfy now?  Can we get on with it?” Ryan grumbled, pissed that he couldn’t seem to  
keep their attention.

“What do you want, O’Reily?” Elliot asked in a tone that portrayed a perfect lack of  
interest as he played with the curls at the back of Toby’s neck.  “Can’t you see we’re  
busy?”

“Or so you would have me believe,” Ryan answered cryptically.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Toby queried, resting his hand high on Elliot’s  
thigh and massaging lightly.

“It means Halstead folded like a cheap lawn chair,” Ryan baited in a heated whisper,  
glancing at the marks on Toby’s neck. “After a little persuasion he told me all about how  
you attacked Beecher yesterday morning.”

“He misunderstood,” Elliot shrugged.  “We were just playing air games.  It got a little out  
of hand.”

“Fuck that, I know you’re not Keller.  You’re some fucking relative cop who’s here  
undercover.”

Elliot froze for a split second before turning to Toby.  They looked at each other then  
burst out into laughter.  “Fuck!” Elliot exclaimed as he reached into his back pocket to  
pull out the small wad of cash he had stashed there.

“I told you,” Toby proclaimed triumphantly, throwing back his head and laughing even  
harder.  “Pay up, bitch.”

Shaking his head as he made a sloppy attempt to straighten out the bills, Elliot counted  
the money.  “Sixteen, seventeen… Shit, that’s all I got.  I owe you three bucks.”

“We can work it out in trade,” Toby smirked as he gathered the money and shoved it into  
his front pocket.

“Yeah, three bucks?  I can take care of that right here,” Elliot said huskily as he pulled  
Toby in for another kiss.

“Enough,” Murphy decried as he came stomping down the last few stair steps.  “Keller,  
let him go or you’re going into the cage.”

Elliot held up his hands and leaned back with a guiltless smile.  “We’re cool.”

“You still owe me two-fifty,” Toby huffed in exasperation as he gave Murphy a dirty  
look. 

“As for you,” Murphy ordered, pointing a finger at Beecher, “Go get your stuff.  Now is  
the perfect time for you to move back into your own pod.”

“I want Keller to move with me,” Toby pronounced.  “Or let me move in with him.”

“You know how it works.  You gotta file the proper paperwork with McManus,” Murphy  
replied with exaggerated patience as he made shooing motions with both hands.  “In the  
meantime you’re going home and he’s staying put.  Did I say now?”

Toby shared an expressionless look with Elliot as he got to his feet.  “I’m going,” he said  
with a halfhearted sigh before headed for the stairs. 

Elliot watched him go, fully aware O’Reily wasn’t missing a thing.  He set his jaw and  
turned back to Ryan but neither spoke with Murphy still standing there.  The CO sensed  
something was up and eyed them charily for a minute before walking away.

“Don’t think I don’t know what this is about,” Elliot began gravely.  “You think I’m  
porking Nathan so you want to start a rumor that’ll get me killed.”

“I didn’t start no rumor, your new little butt-buddy did,” Ryan pointed out craftily.

“You bought into it,” Elliot accused, playing up his disbelief.  “Truthfully, I’m not all  
that surprised Halstead fell for it, but you know me.  I thought you were smarter than  
this.”

“Why the fuck would you feed Halstead that line of bullshit if it wasn’t true?” Ryan  
persisted, looking around as if he felt a little foolish.

Elliot sniffed as he glanced up at his pod, certain Beecher would shortly be ripping  
Dwayne a new one.  “I had to see if I could trust him.  Now I know I can’t.  Look, I know  
what you think you saw this morning in the infirmary.  But I’m not doin’ Doctor Nathan,  
I swear to God.”

“So what’s with all the secrecy when you go to the infirmary?”

“You saw Beecher’s neck,” Elliot said, making a point to shift uncomfortably in his  
chair.  “No lie, we got a little out of hand.  He’s not the only one who got hurt.  Here, let  
me show you…” he trailed off as he moved to unzip his pants.

“Whoa,” Ryan protested instantly.  “I don’t wanna see your shit.”

“Well Doctor Nathan has been really decent to me about the whole thing.  And you and  
me got too much to lose for me to turn on you now for a piece of ass,” Elliot took a shot  
in the dark without really knowing what he was talking about. 

“Don’t talk about her that way,” Ryan warned.

“Sorry.  But how many times I gotta tell you?”

Ryan finally chortled.  “I didn’t really believe him,” he lied.

“What a fucking loser, huh?” Elliot smirked, letting O’Reily think he was talking about  
Dwayne.

“What are you gonna do to him,” Ryan asked maliciously.

“Don’t worry about Halstead.  He’ll pay.”

“I’m sure he will,” Ryan nodded with a feral grin.  “What’s one more with a body count  
like yours?”

Elliot’s smile faded.  “Who’s looking out for Cyril?” he asked coldly.

“Shit, you’re right.  I gotta get back to the kitchen.  He’ll be all right as long as he stays  
on the job but I don’t trust him not to wander off.  No hard feelings.”

“Not by me,” Elliot said blankly, waiting for Ryan to leave before rubbing his eyes.   
“Body count,” he repeated under his breath.  “Shit.”

***

In an effort not to give anything away to her overly perceptive colleague, Olivia put away  
her keys and waited until lunchtime to make her daily trek out to see Chris.  She picked  
up a variety of Chinese takeout and arrived a few minutes before noon, submitting to the  
usual meticulous search.  Plastering on a smile she didn’t quite feel, she braced herself  
for a smug welcome as she was buzzed into the cell

To her surprise Chris looked wary as he got to his feet.  “Olivia,” he greeted somberly.

“Hey you,” Olivia said as she set the large paper bag on the table and began to pull out  
little white boxes.  “I hope you like Chinese.”

“Sure,” Chris replied as he approached her with exaggerated care. 

Olivia frowned at the cool reception.  “What’s wrong?” she asked, suddenly  
apprehensive.  “Is it Elliot?”

“No, he’s fine,” Chris assured.  “In fact Fuller seems to think things are back on track.   
They’ve already got tentative arrangements to make the switch tonight if everything goes  
according to plan.”

“Oh.  That’s good,” Olivia said, turning her attention back to the food to hide her mixed  
reaction.

“Yeah, it’s great.  I’ll be glad when this whole thing is over.”

“So what’s with the long face?”

Chris sighed audibly as he stepped up beside her, brushing her arm as he reached into the  
bag to help her remove the last couple of items and the handful of fortune cookies.  “I’m  
sorry about last night,” he said without looking at her.

“You didn’t do anything to be sorry about,” Olivia remarked as she eased into a chair to  
put a little distance between them.  “Can you eat with these?  I didn’t think to ask for  
forks,” she changed the subject as she held up a pair of chop-sticks.

“I don’t apologize very often,” Chris said with an impatient glower, “So I’d appreciate it  
if you would just shut up for a minute and listen.  I manipulated you.”

“And I called you on it,” Olivia responded bluntly, finally making eye contact.  “It’s  
okay.  Actually, I’m sorry, too.  Some of the things I said were uncalled for.  You just  
want what’s best for Elliot and so do I.”

“What about the kiss?” Chris asked, deceptively casual as he studied her, a hint of the  
anticipated smugness playing on his lips.

“I’m not sorry about that,” Olivia admitted self-consciously as she opened a carton of  
fried rice. 

Seemingly over his fit of melancholy, Chris nodded and finally took a chair.  “So who  
were you kissing?” he asked as he tore the paper off another set of chop-sticks and  
grabbed a box at random.  “No, don’t tell me.  I’m as vain as the next man; I’d like to  
believe it was me.  What the hell is this?” he asked, making a face as he sniffed the  
contents of the container.

“Look, I realize you think I’m using you as a surrogate for Elliot, but I knew who I was  
kissing,” Olivia asserted, finding Chris’ more confrontational style of communication a  
relief in some ways over Elliot’s typical ‘if you don’t talk about it, it’ll go away’ method.   
“That’s bean curd with oyster sauce,” she added as she traded boxes with him, falling  
easily back into their earlier rapport.

More satisfied with the rice Chris used the chop-sticks rather adeptly to shovel a couple  
bites into his mouth before exploring a few more boxes.  “Egg rolls?”

Olivia slid a greasy waxed bag closer to him.  “Here.”

“So are you gonna kiss me again?” Chris teased as he helped himself to an enormous bite  
of egg roll.  “Do I need to get a chaperone in here?  I’m sure Fuller’s not busy.”

“I think I can control myself,” Olivia smirked as she threw a fortune cookie at him.

“Oh.  That’s too bad,” Chris replied, catching the cookie and ripping into the plastic  
around it.

“Hey, that’s for dessert,” Olivia scolded playfully.

“‘Stop searching for happiness, it is right beside you’,” Chris read as he stuffed a piece of  
the crumbled cookie into his mouth.

“It doesn’t say that.” 

“It does,” Chris shrugged, handing the tiny strip of paper over to her.  “And it’s  
absolutely right… these egg rolls do make me happy.  Life is short, eat dessert first,” he  
added philosophically, offering Olivia her pick of the remaining four cookies.

Olivia hesitated, holding her hand over his.  “This one,” she finally chose, grinning at  
him as she opened it.  “You’re a bad influence.”

“Story of my life,” Chris agreed with a wink.  “What’s it say?”

“‘Don’t put all your eggs in one basket’.”

“That’s it?” Chris asked, encompassing her hand roguishly to wrest the fortune from her  
to read it himself.  “Huh.”

“You were expecting something a little more meaningful?”

“Well yeah.  Don’t put all your eggs in one basket?  It might as well say don’t take candy  
from strangers.”

“Also good advice.”

“Advice, yes.  But a fortune?  No.  It should warn you about a dark stranger.”

“You’re not all that strange,” Olivia said, reaching out to touch his hand.  “And I know  
you’ve gotten a little sun but I would hardly call you dark either.”

Chris studied her intently as he stroked the inside of her wrist with his thumb.  “I’m not  
talking about my skin tone, Olivia.  I’m a world away from Elliot,” he muttered.

Olivia paused for a minute, lost in his compelling gaze.  “You’re not as far apart as you  
might think.  Elliot has his share of demons.”

“I hope you’re right.  Or Oz will eat him alive.”

Averting her eyes, Olivia pulled her hand back and picked up her bean curds.  “I hate to  
think of him in that place.  I hate to think of you going back.”

“Aw, Liv,” Chris sighed.  “Don’t worry about me, baby.  I belong there.”

“I know you have to serve your time…”

“No,” Chris corrected quietly.  “I belong there.  I understand prison life.  I… function  
there.  Call it my comfort zone.”

“What about the danger?” Olivia challenged.

“Yeah,” Chris drawled in a low voice, a predatory zeal coming to his eyes that sent cold  
shivers up Olivia’s spine.  “There’s that, too.”

Overcome with a frightening clarity, Olivia realized how different the brothers really  
were.  The bad boy charm suddenly lost some of its luster.  She continued to poke at her  
lunch but her appetite was gone as the new insight into Chris’ nature forced her to re-  
examine her prior assessment of him.

Chris observed her reaction with the finely tuned skill of a con man and smiled to  
himself.  “I have a boyfriend, you know.”

Olivia blinked in surprise.  “No, I didn’t know that.”

“Well, at least I’m planning on getting him back as soon as I can.  We’ve been at odds for  
awhile but I’m sure that’s all behind us now.”

“Good for you,” Olivia managed as she set her food aside and got to her feet.  “I should  
go,” she said, making a show of looking at her watch.

“So I guess this is good-bye,” Chris said as he stood, remaining on his own side of the  
table.  “Take care of my brother for me.”

“I will,” Olivia promised, relieved when he didn’t come near her.  “Enjoy the rest of your  
lunch.”

“Thanks.”

“Let me out,” Olivia called out as she approached the door.  When the buzzer rang she  
bolted into the hall without looking back.  She held her breath until she made it to the  
viewing room, coming face to face with Fuller in her head long rush.

“Are you all right?” Fuller asked with concern.

“Of course,” Olivia lied, her eyes automatically drawn to the window where Chris  
appeared to be nonchalantly finishing his lunch.  After a minute, she realized Fuller was  
still standing next to her.  “I’ve got to go,” she said again, moving toward the stairs.

“It’s funny, Keller didn’t strike me as the noble type,” Fuller replied, stopping her in her  
tracks.  “I’m impressed.”

“What do you mean?” Olivia asked as she slowly turned back to face him.

“He didn’t have to give you a peek into his psyche,” Fuller explained.

“You saw that?”

Fuller laughed.  “You see me as a paper pushing administrator, but I was a pretty good  
profiler in my day.  Keller could have just let you pine away for him while he rots in  
prison.  He chose to push you away.”

Whether she liked it or not, Fuller was right.  Chris had played her again.  This time, she  
decided to let him get away with it.  She bit back the sharp retort on the tip of her tongue  
and merely turned and left. 

Fuller remained at the window for a minute watching as Chris finally snapped a chop  
stick in half and stabbed a half-eaten egg roll with it.  He left the rest of the feast  
untouched and flopped down on the cot. 

“Buzz me in,” Fuller ordered the guard.  “I feel like Chinese.”


	20. part 20

Beecher soon stormed out of Chris’ pod and made his way back down the stairs with his  
armload of belongings.  A second later Dwayne appeared at the railing to stare down at  
Elliot, clearly desperate for a gesture of forgiveness. 

Too angry to offer any hope Elliot sniffed and looked away before getting up to follow  
Toby into his glass box.  “Water damage?” he asked as he looked around the disheveled  
cell, noticing the streaks of dried mud on the floor.

“I don’t think so,” Toby said as he sorted through the items still on his bunk.  “Looks like  
I just need to mop a little.  My stuff seems to be okay.”

Elliot nodded absently as he fingered the edge of the blanket that hung over the side of  
the bed frame.

“Halstead’s a mess,” Toby commented, not sounding particularly sorry for the guy.

“What’d you tell him?”

“I told him he fucked up.  I take it Ryan bought our act?”

“Who knows?” Elliot sighed expansively.  “That bastard is devious.  He says he didn’t  
believe the story anyway, but we both know he did.  I don’t trust him.”

“That’s probably a smart move,” Toby agreed as he bent down to deposit his still absent  
podmate’s things on the lower bunk.  Elliot took the opportunity to swat him across the  
back of the head.  “Ow!” Toby complained, glaring up at him as he rubbed the point of  
impact.  “What the fuck?”

“That was for enjoying it.”

Toby chuckled as he straightened up.  “But you’re getting so much better at it.  Your wife  
is gonna thank me.”

“Don’t,” Elliot warned, pointing a finger at him.

“Aw come on, Officer.  Consider it expanding your horizons.”

“My horizons don’t need expanding,” Elliot grumbled.  “And it’s Detective.”

“Oh, well,” Toby said sardonically.  “Pardon me, Detective.”

“Lunch!” Came the call from the guard tower.

“Let’s go eat,” Toby suggested.  “They’ll probably start the transfers in and out this  
afternoon.”

“Transfers?” Elliot asked innocently, eliciting a small huff of irritation from Toby.

“Yeah, that’s why you were so concerned with the floor, right?  Not just because you  
wanted me out of your pod?  I figure whoever you came to talk to isn’t here yet or you  
would already be gone.  Surely this isn’t long term?”

“You think too much,” Elliot muttered, impressed with Toby’s mental maneuvering even  
if he wouldn’t admit it.

“Good thing I’m on your side, huh?” Toby teased as he moved past him to the door.

Elliot caught him by the arm.  “Toby?” he queried in a voice heavy with dread.

“Yeah?”

“Tell me about Chris’ body count.”

“Body count?  Jesus,” Toby reacted warily as he glanced down at the hand that held him  
in place.  “Who said anything about a body count?”

“O’Reily.”

Toby wiped his free hand down his face to buy a second to think.  “O’Reily’s just testing  
you.”

“I don’t think so.”

Toby twisted out of Elliot’s grip.  “Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the  
answers to,” he cautioned as he moved back to face the sink.  “You promised you  
wouldn’t fuck with Chris.”

“I have to know.”

“No.  You don’t,” Toby insisted as he met Elliot’s gaze in the mirror, willing him to drop  
it. 

Elliot got the message but struggled with it for another moment before finally backing  
down.  “Let’s go to lunch,” he said in tacit agreement as he pushed the door open and  
stepped out.

Toby joined him and they started toward the gate together but neither spoke.  As the  
stream of bodies heading for the mess hall diminished they spotted Dwayne lingering just  
outside in the hall.  He fell into step behind them as they passed him.

“Stupid cunt,” Toby growled.

“Easy, Beecher,” Elliot scolded lightly as he allowed Halstead to catch up to them,  
clamping a hand firmly around the back of his neck.  “We had a close call but I think  
Dwayne has learned his lesson.  Haven’t you, Dwayne?” he asked, his anger still very  
close to the surface.

“Yes sir,” Dwayne muttered meekly, scared and eager to please.

“You can’t trust him.  Anybody looks at him the wrong way and he leaks information.  If  
he were a condom you’d be pregnant by now.”

“Nice visual, thanks,” Elliot complained, giving Dwayne’s nape a hard squeeze.  “I don’t  
have any other choice.  Besides, if he leaks again, he won’t have to worry about Chris  
coming back.  I’ll take care of him myself.”

A strange ‘ep’ sound escaped from Dwayne’s throat but he fervently nodded his  
understanding of the threat.  “I won’t let you down again,” he whispered hoarsely.

“That’s right, you won’t.  Or I’ll toss out a rumor of my own; see how well you’ll do  
after being labeled ‘short eyes’.”

“Short eyes?”

“Yep, that’s a child molester,” Elliot explained, “The absolute bottom of the food chain  
in prison.”

Dwayne gulped.  “I won’t even talk to anybody,” he swore adamantly.

“Good idea,” Elliot approved.  “Now walk behind me and shut the fuck up.  You’re  
officially my bitch until further notice.”

Toby let out a jubilant cackle.  “You’d better hope you can actually get Dwayne  
transferred,” he leaned in close to proclaim in Elliot’s ear.  “Cause if Chris inherits your  
prag, he’s gonna kill you.”

“I know,” Elliot muttered unhappily.  “Believe me, I know.”

***

As they approached the serving area Elliot was well aware O’Reily was watching them.   
He picked up one of the cardboard trays and casually handed it to Halstead as he kept up  
light conversation with Beecher who was just ahead of him in line.  Dwayne accepted the  
tray without a word and took one for himself, carefully balancing both out in front of him  
to be filled as they moved along.

“So Halstead,” Ryan greeted condescendingly, “Heard any good fairy tales lately?”

“Uh uh uh,” Elliot cautioned Dwayne before he could utter a sound.  “What did I tell you  
about talking?”

Dwayne lowered his eyes and nodded minutely, keeping his mouth clamped shut.

“Good boy,” Elliot praised with a smirk to O’Riley as he patted Dwayne’s head like a  
dog.  “I may get him trained yet.”

“Yeah.  Good luck with that,” Ryan scoffed as he sloppily ladled out two helpings of  
soup to go with the baloney sandwiches Cyril dropped onto the trays.  “And a prag is  
born.  Now you be sure and don’t spill that, Sweetie Pie.” 

Sucking up the humiliation admirably, Dwayne followed Elliot and Toby to a table and  
put both trays down.  Elliot took the one with the least amount of spillage and nodded for  
Dwayne to sit before ‘accidentally’ dropping his plastic spoon on the floor.  Dwayne  
quickly handed over his clean one before retrieving it then waited for further instructions.

“He learns fast,” Beecher commented as he sunk his teeth into his sandwich.

“Eat,” Elliot advised Dwayne as he started in on his own lunch.  “You’re gonna need  
your strength tonight,” he leered for the benefit of anyone who might be paying attention.

Dwayne dug in as ordered, seemingly relieved to have someone else calling the shots.   
Aside from a few off-color remarks from bystanders, lunch went off without a hitch.   
When they were done Dwayne gathered the trash, including Toby’s, and deposited it in  
the receptacle then dutifully followed them back to Em City without a word.

Waiting for the afternoon activities back in Chris’ pod, with Dwayne posted outside the  
door, Elliot tried to make sense of what Toby was telling him.

“Let me get this straight,” Elliot asked, trying to keep his anger at bay as he sat up on his  
bunk.  “Chris wants to join the rehab group and Sister Peter Marie won’t let him?  He’s  
honestly trying and she turned him away?  What the fuck kind of psychologist is she?”

“I’m sorry I brought it up,” Toby said, holding up his hands up as he backed towards the  
door.  “I thought you’d be relieved not to have to go.”

“I am,” Elliot admitted grudgingly.  “It’s just the thought that Chris isn’t getting the help  
he obviously needs.”

“Look, Pete’s not a bad person,” Toby defended.  “Chris just really messed with her  
head.”

“See, I don’t get that either.  She’s the professional; she’s expected to keep herself above  
that kind of crap.  In a job like hers she should never have allowed herself to be in a  
position to be manipulated.  By anyone.  She’s a nun for God’s sake.”

“She’s human.  And Chris is… well, Chris. Just remember my volcano analogy.  It  
applies to Pete, too.  She got burned.”

“Nun’s aren’t supposed to burn, not that way,” Elliot insisted stubbornly, offended all the  
way to his Catholic roots.  “Is he using?  Cause if he is and she turned him away…”

“He’s not using.  He just said he’s getting urges,” Toby soothed.  “She’ll give in soon.   
She’s worried as hell about him since she spoke to you.  Look, I gotta go.  The good news  
is O’Reily’s in the group and I can feel him out.”

Having already given up on the Tylenol Elliot lay back and covered his eyes, listening as  
Toby sighed and left.  He knew he should get up and watch for the transfers but he  
needed a minute to relax.

“Can I come in?” Dwayne asked softly.

“No.” 

“How ‘bout me?” another voice asked.

Elliot peeked out from under his arm then sat up.  “Murphy.”

“McManus wants to see you.”

“Oh, joy.  Can I bring Halstead?”

“Why?” Murphy questioned.

“Because if I let him out of my sight somebody’s likely to shank him,” Elliot provided  
seriously.

“Well from what I hear, you’re the source of his current woes.”

“No, he’s not,” Dwayne beat Elliot to the punch.  “I don’t mind the degradation as long  
as he keeps me safe.  I trust him with my life.”

Murphy looked at Dwayne like he’d lost his mind then slowly nodded his head.  “I think  
you’ll be all right for ten minutes.  Let’s go, Keller.”

“Just stay in the pod,” Elliot told Dwayne.  “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“So you really went and pragged him,” Murphy muttered in disgust as he escorted Elliot  
out.

“What else could I do?” Elliot asked, stopping the hack at the rail.  “He’s a non-violent,  
white collar criminal.  He doesn’t belong in Oz.”

“So you’re taking care of him out of the goodness of your heart,” Murphy rejoined  
sarcastically.

Elliot shrugged.  “What can I say?  He’s like a helpless puppy or something.  This place  
is gonna kill him.”

“Let’s go,” Murphy urged, un-swayed by the argument.  When they reached the guard  
station halfway down the stairs he motioned for Elliot to continue without him. 

With a glance up at Dwayne who watched him from the pod, Elliot made his way to the  
main floor, across the quad and back up the stairs on the other side.  “McManus sent for  
me,” he told the hack stationed just outside the unit manager’s office.

The guy knocked on the door then leaned his head in for a minute before letting Elliot  
pass.

“What do you want?” Elliot asked McManus as he dropped into a chair.

McManus eyed him skeptically as he sat on the edge of his desk.  “I just spoke to Doctor  
Nathan.  She said you’re concerned about Halstead’s well-being.”

“He needs to go into protective custody.”

“Yeah, that would get him out of your hair,” McManus retorted.

Elliot pursed his lips and studied the other man for a moment.  “There’s a contract out on  
him.”

“Halstead tell you that?”

“Yeah,” Elliot began to spin his tale.  “You know as well as I do that it’s open season on  
geeks like him in Oz.  You think it’s just a mishap of justice that he got sent here?  He  
wouldn’t play ball with the FBI so they stuck him here as punishment, knowing he’d get  
whacked.”

“That’s a stretch,” McManus scoffed.

“Is it?  Maybe I know a little more about how the Feds operate than you do.  From recent  
experience, you understand.”

“Okay, even if you’re right, which I’m not saying you are,” McManus waffled as he tried  
to work the situation out in his head, “If Halstead didn’t rollover on anybody, who would  
want him dead?”

“Oh, gee, that’s a tough one.  Let me think… uh, one of his marks?” Elliot pretended to  
take a wild guess. 

“So this is all about money?”

“Dwayne may be a fuck up, but he’s a smart fuck up.  He pocketed a whole lot of loose  
change from a whole lot of not-so-nice people before he got caught.”

McManus pushed away from his desk and moved to look out over Em City.  “The geek  
thing… What happened to Beecher when he first got here, I feel a certain amount of  
responsibility for that.”

“Good,” Elliot responded heartlessly.

“I never broke any of his bones,” McManus spat out, spinning around to glare.

“So it wasn’t your dick.  That doesn’t mean you didn’t fuck him, too.”

McManus swallowed his anger and turned back to the window.  “I’ll see what I can do  
for Halstead,” he uttered in a voice full of remorse.  “He can stay with you this afternoon  
while I clear it with the warden.  I won’t send him back to the dress factory.”

“Thank you,” Elliot said, relieved how easy his task had turned out to be.  Then he  
decided to push his luck.  “What about Cyril O’Reily?”

“What about him?” McManus asked in surprise as he moved back to his desk to take a  
seat.

“He doesn’t belong here either.”

“Ya think?” McManus asked irritably.  “I’ve been trying to get him shipped out to the  
loony-bin almost as long as he’s been here.  His brother fights me every step of the way.”

“And we all know how much power Ryan O’Reily has around here.”

“Get out,” McManus ordered, pulling a sour face.

Elliot got up and moved to the door.  “Don’t drag your feet on this Halstead business,” he  
requested, ducking out before McManus could reply.


	21. part 21

“You’re back,” Fin said in surprise as Olivia entered the squad room and went straight to  
her desk.

“So?” Olivia answered defensively, slamming things around a bit as she took a seat.

Fin exchanged a concerned look with Munch and they both headed over. 

“Well you’re usually gone longer,” John offered with a shrug.  “Do I sense trouble in the  
realm of the FBI?”

“No,” Olivia denied gruffly.  “Hopefully they’ll make the switch tonight and this whole  
nightmare will be over.”

“That’s good,” Fin replied as he sized her up.  “We’ll all be glad when Elliot gets back  
where he belongs.”

“I don’t think this has anything to do with Elliot,” Munch muttered in a not-so-quiet aside  
to his counterpart.

“I know that,” Fin confirmed in exasperation.  “I was just trying to show a little support  
without getting personal, unlike some people.”

Olivia glared at them both.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” they said in unison, every man for himself as they backed out of her space.

“So you’re going to be around this afternoon?” Munch treaded carefully, lingering at his  
desk and sharing yet another glance with Fin.

Running a hand through her hair, Olivia sighed and attempted to pull herself together.   
“Yeah,” she finally responded.  “I’m not going back.  What do you need?”

“Wanna go over a particularly massive phone dump while we execute a warrant?”

“I’d love to,” Olivia said with a weary smile as she reached for the thick manila folder  
Fin held out to her, thankful for something to occupy her mind.

“Why are you two still here?” Cragen questioned as he passed through the bullpen.  “You  
got the warrant ten minutes ago.”

“I’m still waiting on Munch to get his bony butt in gear.”

“We’re on our way,” Munch assured with a disapproving frown to his partner as he  
ushered him out the door.

“No pressure, but don’t come home without the murder weapon in hand,” Cragen called  
after them before turning to Olivia.  “Good, you’re back.  Can I see you for a minute?”

“Sure, Cap,” Olivia responded, getting up to follow him into his office.  She crossed her  
arms over her chest as she leaned against the doorframe.  “What’s up?”

“You just missed Kathy Stabler.”

“Damn.  Okay, I’ll give her a call.  It looks like tonight’s the night.”

“Yeah, why don’t you hold off on that?” Cragen advised as he seated himself.  “At this  
point I don’t think she can take another set back.”

“You’re right,” Olivia agreed with an apologetic wince.  “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” 

“Well they didn’t make me Captain just because of my charm and good looks,” Cragen  
teased, keeping the atmosphere informal.  “By the way, Fuller called.”

Olivia straightened abruptly then made an effort not to slam the door as she shut it,  
silently cursing a certain gray haired FBI agent as she took a chair.  “He didn’t waste any  
time.  What did he say?” she asked apprehensively.

“He’s worried about you.  He thinks Keller scared you off.  I told him you don’t frighten  
that easily.”

“Keller did scare me,” Olivia confessed with a resigned sigh.  “And he did it on purpose.”

“Oh?” Cragen asked, his eyebrows climbing swiftly with his surprise.  “Do you mind if I  
ask what he did?”

“You know that expression Elliot gets in the interrogation room right before he tucks in  
his tie and starts to roll up his sleeves?” Olivia asked softly.  “The one that always makes  
me think he’s about to bitch slap someone?”

Cragen chuckled in understanding.  “I know the one you mean.  If I was a perp, that look  
would most likely get a confession out of me.”

“Well that’s about what I expected from Chris,” Olivia explained.  “I guess I thought  
their dark sides would be comparable somehow.  I felt like they were mostly the same but  
maybe Chris had just made a lot worse decisions in his life than Elliot had.”

“Obviously you don’t believe that now.”

“Now I know better.  We were talking about the dangers of prison life and Chris  
suddenly got this… this fire in his eyes.  He enjoys the violence.  He gets off on it.”

“That’s not unusual for someone who’s done as much hard time as Keller has,” Cragen  
reasoned.  “I think that’s just an unfortunate byproduct of our penal system.”

Olivia slowly shook her head.  “This is more than that.  Fuller said Chris gave me a peek  
into his psyche.  It was like he literally took away a mask for a second and there was  
something inside him I have never, ever seen in Elliot.”

“What did you see?”

“Something evil, I think.  Believe me, I hate to admit it, but Chris is everything Agent  
Taylor says he is.”

Cragen let out a breath then pinned her with a hard look, suddenly all Captain.  “It’s not  
that I doubt you, Olivia, I trust your instincts implicitly.  But why would he choose to  
show you that?  It’s certainly not in his best interests.”

“I let him get to me,” Olivia admitted reluctantly.  “Maybe I got to him a little, too.”

“Is that why you kissed him?”

Olivia faltered then snorted her indignation, not surprised how completely Fuller had  
ratted her out.  “I suppose.”

“He let you off the hook,” Cragen observed.  “That doesn’t sound so evil to me.”

“I realize that,” Olivia snapped before bringing her tone down a little.  “Look, I know the  
man is an enigma.  I was ready to lead the fight to clear his name from the FBI, but now I  
want to nail him to the wall.”

“Putting aside your personal feelings for a minute, aren’t you forgetting someone?”  
Cragen queried gently.  “How is Elliot going to feel if his partner brings down his  
brother?”

Olivia paused to consider the question.  “So what should I do?” she asked miserably.

“Stay out of it.  Even if the Feds don’t get him, the chances are better than not Keller will  
die in prison.  So unless the walls around Oz come tumbling down sometime in the next  
fifty years, he’s no threat to society.  It’s out of our jurisdiction anyway.”

After another minute of reflection Olivia finally let it go.  “Thanks,” she said.  “But what  
do I tell Elliot?”

“Welcome home?” Cragen suggested sagely.  “And I hope you get to tell him soon.” 

***

When Elliot got back to the pod Dwayne jumped to his feet, wringing his hands fretfully.   
He cleared his throat but couldn’t quite manage to string together any words.

“Relax,” Elliot advised irritably as he rolled into his bunk, situating himself so he could  
watch the comings and goings of Em City below him.  “I told McManus there’s a hit out  
on you.  I think he bought it.  They should be moving you into protective custody soon.”

A gasp sounded behind him and Elliot couldn’t help but glance over to see Dwayne fairly  
drooping with relief.  “Thank God, oh, thank God.”

“I don’t think God had a lot to do with your mess,” Elliot smirked.

“Oh I know, I know,” Dwayne started his nervous chatter.  “I can’t thank you enough.  I  
thought for sure you were going to back out of our deal.”

“I should have,” Elliot muttered, turning away.  He might eventually forgive the betrayal,  
but he couldn’t afford to forget it.  “That little stunt could have gotten me killed.  Hell, it  
still might.”

“I’m sorry.  I am so sorry,” Dwayne said softly.  “I just… I…  I panicked.  O’Reily said  
things, he acted like he knew, and I thought he really knew.  I promise it won’t happen  
again.”

“Whatever.”

“No, seriously, you can count on me,” Dwayne insisted, dropping down to kneel next to  
the bed.  “Beecher was right.  If I got you killed, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.   
From now on I’m going to watch your back.  Consider me your very own guardian  
angel.”

“Lucky me,” Elliot swore with a dubious chuckle, never taking his eyes off the target  
area below. 

“You’ll see,” Dwayne promised determinedly as he settled on the floor next to the bed to  
help Elliot wait.

***

Since Sister Pete had yet to make an appearance, the self-proclaimed addicts took their  
sweet time finding seats in the semi-circle of folding chairs on the stage, except for Hill  
of course, who merely rolled into an empty spot.  Ryan took advantage of the momentary  
wanderings and dropped into the chair next to Beecher, who didn’t even try to cover an  
annoyed grimace.

“So you like the rough stuff,” he began conversationally but in a tone slightly lower than  
the bullshitting going on around them.  “That surprises me.  You don’t seem like the  
type.”

“The type?” Beecher asked, appearing to think it over for a minute.  “Actually, Chris  
likes it rough.  I just like Chris.  Any old way I can get him,” he added lasciviously. 

Ryan wrinkled his nose in disgust, but he wouldn’t really be able to accept Keller’s story  
until he could compare it to Beecher’s version of events.  “I guess he kinda went crazy on  
your ass, huh?” he persisted.

“You could say that,” Beecher assured with a twitch of his lip that didn’t quite emerge as  
a full fledged smirk.  Even for a student of body language like Ryan, the nervy little  
bastard was hard to read in his saner moments.

“Yeah?” Ryan fished a little harder.  “It looks like he almost did you in.  But you got him  
back.”

“What do you mean?”

“You weren’t the only one to get hurt,” Ryan prodded expectantly, giving only enough  
information to elicit a response, or enough rope for Beecher to hang himself.  And the  
Keller look-a-like, if that turned out to be the case after all.

“He showed you his dick?” Beecher blurted out loud enough that everyone stopped  
gabbing to look at them.

“No,” Ryan denied at once.  “You know I don’t roll that way,” he said for the benefit of  
the crowd, glaring as Beecher grinned triumphantly.  “Fuck.  I just wondered what you  
did to it, that’s all.”

“Well I didn’t bite it if that’s what you mean,” Beecher muttered with a haughty sniff.  “I  
just gave it a little… squeeze,” he replied as he cheerfully tightened his fist in front of  
him as a visual aid.

“Forget I asked, okay?” Ryan backpedaled, satisfied by Beecher’s reaction and more than  
ready to drop the matter.  Instead he turned his thoughts to how he was going to get even  
with Halstead for making him look like an idiot.  Only Beecher seemed to be warming to  
the topic in diametric opposition to his own disdain.

“I wasn’t tying to hurt him.  I was just trying to get his attention because I thought for a  
minute there he was actually going to snuff me, in the heat of the moment, you know.”

“Yeah, I don’t really want to hear the details.”

“You sure?” Beecher deviled.  “I can give you a blow by blow of the action,” he said,  
using his tongue and lips to enunciate each ‘blow’ suggestively.

“No thanks,” Ryan grunted, trying to keep his cool as he looked around to make sure no  
one else was still listening.

“Aw come on, it’s scintillating.  It’ll give you some nice images to whack off to.”

“Beecher, if I ever get that hard up, I swear to God, I’ll fucking kill myself.”

“Ryan, don’t swear,” Sister Pete gasped as she finally showed up just in time to catch his  
erstwhile proclamation.  “Is there something you’d like to talk about?  I’ll clear some  
time for you this afternoon.”

“That’s probably a good idea, Ryan,” Beecher promptly agreed, going from sex kitten to  
choir boy in under a second flat as he folded his hands in his lap.  “You’ve got issues.”

***

Elliot didn’t have a direct line of sight on the gate but he could easily catch any  
movement in the area from the reflection off the glass of the lower pods.  Shortly after  
settling in for what he considered an unusually comfortable stakeout he watched as a  
small group of prisoners was herded across the quad and out the gate, each burdened with  
his own scant belongings.  From the reluctance of their shuffling feet he gathered they  
weren’t soon-to-be-free parolees, just unlucky exiles from Emerald City. 

“I guess you pricks fucked up, didn’t you?” Elliot asked with an unsympathetic grin as he  
wondered what transgressions they might have committed to get kicked back to gen pop.   
He didn’t get a reply from his guardian angel, who had fallen asleep propped against the  
end of the bunk, but he didn’t really expect one either.  He decided he liked Dwayne a lot  
better when he was unconscious, as long as he didn’t start to snore.  Then it would be a  
tough call, depending on how loud he got.

Toby had said the rehab group would meet for an hour but Elliot’s internal clock told him  
he hadn’t kept his vigil for much more than twenty minutes.  Nevertheless, the way time  
dragged in Oz he wished he had his watch if only for confirmation.  Fortunately, he  
didn’t have to wait long before the gate opened again.  Elliot perked up as an old prisoner  
escorted a new one across the common area and into the pod Toby’s roommate had  
occupied until right after lunch.

“Wake up, Clarence,” Elliot said as he jostled Dwayne with his booted foot before  
jumping up and moving to the door.  “It’s time to earn your wings.”

“Huh?  Who’s Clarence?” Dwayne muttered as he jerked his head upright. 

“Come on,” Elliot ordered, not waiting around for the other man to get to his feet before  
heading for the stairs.  He had no doubt Dwayne would follow and wasn’t disappointed  
when he practically ran to catch up. 

With one catastrophe after another dealt with as best he could, it was finally time for the  
real action.  Freedom suddenly loomed before him but Elliot had to remind himself to  
stay focused.  Even though it had been days since he’d seen the file, complete with a  
mini-album of surveillance photos, he was positive Vincent ‘The Stitch’ Franco had just  
arrived in Em City. 

Once tailor to the mob and sometime assassin, Franco was a little older than most of the  
inmates, with the notable exceptions of Rebadow and Busmalis, but he appeared to be in  
excellent shape.  He wasn’t especially big or tall, but he moved with such a confident  
bearing he was hard to miss.  However something about his demeanor was off.  To  
Elliot’s mind, the man didn’t conduct himself like someone in the Mafia’s crosshairs.

“Act like you got a pair,” Elliot remembered Chris’ advice out loud, wondering if it  
would even buy ‘The Stitch’ another day.

“What?” Dwayne asked in his perpetual state of confusion as he nearly slammed into  
Elliot’s back when he paused on the last step.

“Let’s play cards,” Elliot decided, grabbing a deck off one table as he worked his way  
over to another empty one closer to the pod his mark would now be calling ‘home’.

“I don’t want to,” Dwayne objected as he anxiously checked out the handful of men  
scattered around the other tables. 

Elliot dropped into a chair and began to shuffle, casually glancing over to see Franco  
standing with his back to the door as he got acquainted with his new podmate.  “Yes you  
do,” he told Dwayne firmly.

Dwayne looked embarrassed as he took a seat and leaned in close.   “I don’t know how,”  
he explained in a strained whisper.

“You don’t know how to play cards?” Elliot asked in disbelief as he stopped shuffling to  
stare at him.

“No.”

“First you don’t know how to play chess and now you’re telling me you don’t even know  
one card game?”  At a loss as he scratched his eyebrow with his thumb. 

“I was an only child.”

“But you went to school, right?” Elliot grappled for an explanation he could comprehend.   
“I mean you had to have some kind of social activity with other children.”

“I read.  A lot.”

“At least Jimmy Stewart had something to work with,” Elliot swore under his breath.   
“Come on, Dwayne, think hard.  Ya gotta know some kind of card game.”

“Go fish?” Dwayne offered sheepishly.

“Any other time I might take you up on that,” Elliot laughed lightly as he took pity on the  
other man and began to deal.  “But I don’t really think ‘go fish’ is a wise choice here, my  
friend.  Pay attention, this is five card draw.”

“Poker?”

“Yeah, poker.”

Dwayne nodded thoughtfully as he studied his cards.  “So what do I do?”

“Pairs are good, three of a kind and four of a kind are even better,” Elliot lectured  
offhandedly, keeping an eye on the pod behind Dwayne.  “If all your cards are the same  
suit…”

“Suit?” Dwayne interrupted.  “Like hearts or spades?”

“Yeah, or diamonds or clubs or if the numbers are all in a row, those are good hands.   
Look at what you’ve got and keep the good ones then discard the rest.”

“I don’t know.”

“It doesn’t matter, we’re not playing for money,” Elliot reminded him tolerantly.

Dwayne made some funny noises and shifted his cards around in his hand.  “I’m not  
sure,” he sighed.

“Okay, let me see what you’ve got.”

“No,” Dwayne refused looking scandalized as he held his cards to his chest out of reach  
of Elliot’s outstretched hand.

Dropping his arm, Elliot bit the inside of his cheek and counted to ten as he studied the  
ceiling high above.  Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly before meeting Dwayne’s  
stubborn stare.  “Have you got any fours?” he finally asked, tapping into a store of  
patience he didn’t know he had.

Dwayne blinked then a grateful smile spread across his face.  “Go fish,” he said softly.

***

That no one bothered them as Elliot trounced his less experienced opponent would appear  
to speak volumes about Chris’ street cred.  Except that as a whole the gathering in the  
common area was a lot more interested in sizing up the next round of newbies as they  
transferred in than they were about the two of them indulging in a child’s game.  When  
Halstead refused to play again after the first loss they continued to sit at the table.   
Dwayne got in some much needed practice shuffling cards and Elliot pretended to coach  
him while keeping up his covert surveillance. 

“What’s Franco doin’ in there?  Telling his life story?” Elliot groused to himself as the  
minutes slowly ticked by. 

Hanging out in his pod was a pretty good defense strategy for someone with his head on  
the chopping block, but surely the other guy had somewhere to be.  Never being caught  
without a buddy was another good tactic for staying alive in prison and Franco seemed as  
determined to make a friend as Dwayne had been.  The difference being Elliot doubted  
the fallen Mafioso would go so far as to offer up his ass. 

Realizing he probably wouldn’t ever catch Franco completely alone Elliot decided to  
approach anyway and politely ask the podmate to step out for a minute.  It seemed like a  
good idea, elegant in its simplicity.  Unfortunately the rest of Em City’s resident Italians  
chose that moment to come through the gate after spending their morning and early  
afternoon managing the kitchen.  The last thing Elliot wanted to do was make them think  
Chris was in bed with a Mafia snitch so he aborted his plan for the moment, once again  
biding his time.

The ranking wiseguy in Oz settled at a table with his posse and soon they were involved  
in what looked like a three-handed game of pinochle.  No stranger to the weight room  
himself, Elliot couldn’t help but be a little awed by Pancamo’s physique.  The mobster  
was built like a brick shithouse.  A bottled tan set off the ripped body making him further  
stand out from the prison pallor of just about every other Caucasian slug in the joint.  As  
he played cards and joked with his men the animated face under the Elvis Presley hair  
belied the ruthlessness that had landed Chucky in prison in the first place.

But the most impressive thing about Pancamo was the noticeable devotion of his  
henchmen.  And they were diligent, too.  Both frequently scanned their surroundings  
taking in everything around them which freed their boss from the worry of security  
issues.  Elliot knew the instant Franco was spotted as one thug leaned in close to whisper  
in Pancamo’s ear.  A cool customer, the big man merely nodded without looking up from  
his cards, never letting on what he was thinking.

To Elliot’s alarm Franco decided to come out of hiding and audaciously headed straight  
to the Italianos’ table.  More surprising was the fact that no one challenged his approach,  
as if he wasn’t even worthy of their concern.  Admittedly, Franco did tone down the  
pompous air about him as he knelt next to Pancamo’s chair to speak to him.  Elliot  
strained to hear what he said but he was too far away and there wasn’t a reasonable  
excuse to move closer.  As he caught himself staring he realized that everyone else was  
watching the scene as well and turning away would only make him stand out.

Pancamo didn’t bother to look at Franco until he finished playing his hand.  When he  
finally did spare him a glance it was with an annoyed frown.  Then he publicly brushed  
off the smaller man’s attempt to kiss him on the cheek in the traditional display of  
respect.  The meeting was over before it began and Franco seemed beside himself when  
Pancamo waved him off.  Prudently, he didn’t argue and even stepped back before  
stopping to get his bearings.  His gaze came to rest on the small glassed-in room across  
the quad where the prisoners could make phone calls.  He hurried in that direction like his  
ass was on fire… and all by himself.

“Finally,” Elliot muttered, getting to his feet to follow.

“Well that was certainly interesting,” a voice noted from behind him.

“Not now, Rebadow,” Elliot said as he quickly pushed past the older man, not even  
pausing to wonder when he’d gotten out of the infirmary.

Releasing a sigh of frustration, Rebadow looked around for someone else with whom he  
could share his observations.  His usual confidants were still out of pocket, but most were  
due to return from drug rehab any minute.  Dwayne shrugged at him as he meekly trailed  
behind Elliot. 

A long-haired guy who looked like he really needed to be in Sister Pete’s group staggered  
out of the phone room and Franco practically ran him down in the doorway.  “Hey, watch  
it,” the man objected before aimlessly wandering away.

Elliot got there a second later and glanced around to make sure no one was looking their  
way.  “Wait out here,” he told Dwayne before he tugged the door open and stepped into  
the room.

Dwayne nodded nervously but did as he was told and positioned himself with his back to  
the glass.  Even so he appeared ready to duck inside at a moment’s notice as he glanced  
around furtively.

Out of the four phones, two were clearly marked ‘out of order’.  In a blind panic, Franco  
struggled to punch in his calling card number on one of the broken ones.  In contrast to  
his previous showing in the art of self-preservation, he didn’t even notice there was  
someone behind him until Elliot tapped him on the back.  

“That one doesn’t work.”

Startled, Franco grasped his chest with the hand still holding the handset as he whirled  
around, wrapping the metal cord around his shoulders.  “Back off, asshole,” he snarled in  
a voice rife with false bravado.  “I guess you didn’t notice who I was just talking to.”

“Oh you mean Mr. Pancamo?” Elliot asked as he leaned a shoulder against the wall.   
“Yeah, I caught that.  In fact I saw him dis you in front of God and everybody.  That  
makes you fair game for every douche bag in the place and you know it.”

Franco’s face fell as the truth struck home.  If he’d thought he would somehow be able to  
ingratiate himself to Pancamo the delusion was now gone.  “What do you want?” he  
asked in defeat.  “Don’t hurt me, I can pay.”

“Relax.  I don’t want your money,” Elliot cut to chase, eager to get the conversation over  
with. “Fuller sent me.”

The expected relief never showed on Franco’s face.  Instead his fingers went white where  
he gripped the phone.  “What did you say?”

“Special Agent Fuller from the FBI, I take it you know him?”

“Sonofabitch,” Franco ground out between clenched teeth.  “Son of a hairy bitch!  This is  
his doing?” 

“He’s been trying to get someone in to protective custody to talk to you for weeks but all  
his efforts have failed.  He thinks there’s someone on the inside mucking things up …”  
Elliot trailed off as he caught the other man’s suddenly defiant glare.  “It was you,” he  
surmised, narrowing his eyes as he straightened up.  “You’re the one who’s been  
sabotaging the operation.”

“I warned him.  I told him to leave me alone.”

“Whatever deal you made with Fuller, you can’t just back out on it now,” Elliot pointed  
out furiously.

“Or what?” Franco laughed with a hysterical edge in his voice.  “Or he’ll dump me back  
out in the open?  Too late!”

“Look, give me something to take to Fuller and I’m sure he’ll put you back where you’re  
safe.”

“News flash, Jack,” Franco spat out, “I ain’t gonna live that long.”

“Give me something,” Elliot insisted heatedly, not ready to write the ordeal off as a total  
failure.

“Don’t you understand?” Franco practically begged.  “I don’t have any more information  
to give him.  Fuller bled me dry a long time ago.  I told him what he wanted to hear and  
then I started to make things up.  But I’m fresh out of bullshit.”

“So you got a deep cover agent killed to cover your own ass,” Elliot growled as he turned  
to go, angry at Franco, angrier at Fuller for sending him on a very dangerous wild goose  
chase. 

“You’ve got to protect me,” Franco pled, grabbing Elliot’s arm.  “I was never a made  
man, I lived my whole life on the outside looking in.  No matter what I did men like  
Pancamo never trusted me.”

“Save it for your tombstone,” Elliot retorted as he jerked his arm away.

“Wait!” Franco shouted, furious and desperate.  He struck Elliot in the middle of his  
bruised forehead with the handset of the phone as hard as he could swing it.  “Take that  
to Fuller, you fucking narc.”

The explosion of pain took Elliot down but he managed to throw up an arm to ward off a  
second strike.  He grabbed Franco’s leg and tried to lever himself up until the rapid onset  
of vertigo sapped his strength and sent him spiraling back to the floor.  As darkness  
overtook him he felt the force of the blow as Franco was slammed into the wall but Elliot  
didn’t stay conscious long enough to witness the ensuing struggle.

***

As he guarded the door Dwayne felt like his heart was beating faster than it had ever  
beaten in his entire life except, of course, for his first day in Em City when the mean men  
had taken his money, his watch, and what was left of his pride.  Or the day he met Tobias  
Beecher and heard all about his soon to be returning podmate.  Or the times he got  
smacked around in the laundry room, and the computer room, oh, and right in front of the  
TV.  But especially when Ryan O’Reily had shown up in the hall outside the dress  
factory to ‘share’ anecdotes about his good buddy Keller. 

Dwayne realized he was getting to an age when a man needed to start thinking about his  
heart.  He found a second to regret his penchant for fried foods back when he’d had a  
choice about what he ate.  Back before all his choices had been taken away.  Glancing  
over his shoulder he saw the cop leaning on the wall and looking like anything but one of  
the good guys.  If the real Keller was truly scarier than this man, Dwayne was glad he  
wasn’t going to be sticking around to meet him.

An instant later voices were raised inside the room and Dwayne risked another look.   
Both men were angry but he was sure his big friend wouldn’t need any help with the  
arrogant little shrimp who was shouting at him.  Dwayne’s mind took another detour, this  
time wondering why so many of the phones always seemed to be broken in the otherwise  
nice facility.  Bad tempered men receiving bad news he decided.  Animals.

When he turned back toward the quad he nearly wet his pants when he saw three muscle-  
bound men heading his way.  And not just any men.  He’d heard rumors that these  
particular brutes had ties to the Mafia.  He didn’t believe everything he heard, anymore,  
but these fellows were actually Italian.  At least they looked Italian to him.  Worse, they  
looked like they intended to make a phone call and as he had no intention of standing in  
their way Dwayne fled to the only safety he knew. 

He yanked the door open and barreled through still watching behind him.  Tripping over  
his shoelace he tumbled headlong into someone.  He closed his eyes and hoped it was the  
small guy as they impacted with the wall.  Hard.  His feet got hopelessly tangled with  
something sprawled in the floor and he twisted away a hundred and eighty degrees.  As  
he fell in the opposite direction someone got caught up in his spinning momentum.   
Trying to stay upright he grabbed a hard piece of plastic that jabbed him in the chin and  
held on tight as he seemed to dangle in mid-air.  Hands batted at him relentlessly as the  
most horrible noise he ever heard gasped and grated in his ear. 

The struggle seemed to last a lifetime but eventually the movement stopped and a dead  
weight slumped against him even as the arms dropped away.  Still out of his mind with  
fright Dwayne opened his eyes to stare into the lifeless ones of the man hanging by the  
phone cord above him.  He shrieked in terror as he released the handset and landed on the  
unresponsive form below him.  Unfortunately his own weight on the cord was the only  
thing keeping the corpse in place so when he let go it unwound its deadly coil and the  
body rolled right down on top of him. 

Too stunned to think, Dwayne lay in the middle of the carnage as he slowly turned his  
head to the glass wall in the hopes of finding help.  Just outside the Italians gaped at him  
incredulously.  Finally the biggest man nodded his approval and smiled before walking  
away.  Dwayne promptly passed out. 

Not more than a minute later there was a lot of shouting as hands tugged and pushed at  
him roughly.  “Move over you worthless piece of shit,” the words finally began to sink  
in.  “We need help in here!”

With every last ounce of his strength Dwayne heaved the body on top of him away and  
scrambled to a sitting position with his back against the wall.  The action freed up  
‘Keller’ and Beecher grabbed him under the arms and quickly dragged him to the other  
side of the small room.  O’Reily stood in the doorway but stepped aside as the gathering  
crowd parted to let the hacks in. 

“What the hell happened?” Murphy questioned as he stormed into the room.  “Beecher?”

“I don’t know,” Beecher explained hastily as he shrugged off the hand of the guard trying  
to pull him away from the man everyone assumed to be his lover.  “I saw the bodies  
when we came down the hall.  Get off me!  I’m not leaving him.”

“It’s okay,” Murphy interceded, instructing the CO to let them be.

“This one’s dead,” another hack confirmed when he couldn’t find a pulse on the other  
victim.

Dwayne froze, staring at the man he had inadvertently strangled in front of the Mob.

“Halstead.  Halstead,” Murphy repeated as he knelt next to him and placed a hand on his  
shoulder. “I think he’s in shock,” he reported to the newest arrival in the crowded room. 

“Keller told me there was a contract out on Halstead,” McManus replied, releasing a  
heavy breath as he stopped just inside the door.  “I guess it’s no coincidence he was  
attacked by a convicted assassin.”

“Where the hell are the medics?” Beecher cut in anxiously.

“Take it easy, Beecher.  They’re on the way,” McManus soothed.  “I guess we don’t have  
to put Halstead into protective custody now.”

“I don’t know, Tim.  Just because this one failed don’t mean the next one will,” Murphy  
pointed out, “Especially with Keller out of the picture.”

“He’s waking up,” Beecher announced as the man on the floor groaned.

“Dwayne?” came a hoarse enquiry.

“He’s fine,” Beecher assured with a grin as he continued to hover.  “In fact he’s a lot  
better than you are right now.”

Touched by the concern, Dwayne pushed away from Murphy and crawled over to his  
only friend.  “Are you okay?” he asked, finally finding his voice.

“You saved my life.”

“I guess I did,” Dwayne uttered in amazement.  “I killed that guy.”

“You killed him?” McManus questioned doubtfully.

“I had to,” Dwayne lied, liking the way it felt to be a hero.  “He was attacking… Keller.   
He… he was trying to murder him.  I had to protect him.”

“Huh,” was all Murphy could manage.

“Oh my God,” Doctor Nathan exclaimed as she physically pushed Ryan O’Reily away  
from her and came through the door.  Beecher pulled Dwayne back a little as she dropped  
down next to Keller.  “That’s it,” she whispered fiercely.  “I’m pulling the plug right  
now.”

‘Keller’ glanced toward the body beneath the phone and solemnly nodded his agreement.

“What’s going on?” McManus asked.

“I’m sending him to Bench for a head CT,” Nathan covered quickly as her team moved in  
to load the patient onto a gurney.  “Have someone in the infirmary call for an  
ambulance,” she told one of the hacks who obeyed by speaking into his radio.

“Thanks, Stone,” Keller said groggily as they rolled him out.

Dwayne started to shake as the adrenaline rush faded but it didn’t slow the ear to ear grin  
that spread across his face at the nickname.  Keller stopped the gurney in the door by  
placing a hand on the wall as he reached back to Beecher with the other.  For a second  
Dwayne thought he was going to kiss him but he merely spoke softly in his ear when he  
leaned forward. 

Beecher swallowed once and nodded as Keller removed his hand and let the medical  
team wheel him towards the gate.

“What did he say?” Dwayne asked quietly.

“He said aloe is good for burns,” Beecher replied, allowing himself to smile.


	22. part 22

Dressed in his brother’s gym clothes Chris rested on his stomach, red in the face and  
covered in sweat as he tried to catch his breath.  His arms and shoulders throbbed from so  
many pushups he’d lost count but he still felt agitated, like he was balancing on the edge  
of his sanity.  He wasn’t sure he could take another six minutes trapped in the tiny room,  
let alone the six hours Fuller predicted.  And if the operation dragged on for another day,  
he would go crazy.  When the buzzer sounded he pushed back up on his arms and got to  
his feet to face ‘the agent in charge’ as he stepped into the room.

“You’ve got thirty minutes.  Pack your stuff,” Fuller informed him, dropping a disposable  
razor onto the tabletop.

“You said we wouldn’t leave until tonight,” Chris countered suspiciously as he moved  
closer to the table to retrieve the razor. 

“Change of plans.  The op is over.”

Chris put a hand on the back of a chair to steady himself as his blood ran cold. “Elliot?”

Fuller seemed reluctant to answer but met Chris’ challenging glare head on.  “He’s at  
Benchley Memorial,” he said at last.

The attack was swift and precise.  Chris lunged past the table and captured the agent by  
the neck in one fluid movement, dragging him backwards into the corner as the guard  
burst into the room armed with a nightstick. 

“He’s alive,” Fuller managed in spite of the arm across his windpipe.  “I can’t say the  
same for my informant.”

“What happened?” Chris asked with an angry growl, confident his hands were the only  
weapon he needed.  By the look in his eyes the guard knew if he tried anything Fuller  
would be dead before he could get to him. 

“All I know right now is Stabler got hit in the head and Doctor Nathan used it as an  
excuse to get him out of Oz.  She says he’ll be fine.  Release me unharmed and I’ll take  
you to the hospital to say good-bye.”

“Yeah?” Chris flexed his forearm just enough to remind Fuller who was in the driver’s  
seat.

Fuller gasped in pain.  “Have I ever lied to you?”

Chris took his time to mentally sort through the various conversations they’d had and he  
couldn’t actually come up with an outright lie.  Not from Fuller anyway.  Taylor he  
wasn’t so sure about, but Taylor hadn’t been around in days.  “Have your boy back up.”   
He eased his grip and patted Fuller on the chest but kept him in a loose embrace. 

With a nod to the irate guard Fuller straightened up and loosened his tie to rub his neck as  
Chris let him go.  “Thirty minutes,” he reminded as he headed to the door, furiously  
trying to brush off the other man’s sweat from the front of his suit coat.  The guard  
tapped his palm with his nightstick in a meaningful warning as he backed out as well.

Anxious and worried Chris cleaned up, dressed and packed in half the allotted time,  
leaving the razor in full view on the table when he was done with it.  “Let’s go,” he  
shouted, looking directly into camera. 

But Fuller ever true to his word let him cool his heels for another fifteen minutes before  
showing back up to watch two other agents roughly shackle Chris’ arms and legs to his  
waist.  One of them grabbed Elliot’s carryall and the other guided him down the stairs, a  
tricky proposition in the full set of chains as a tight-lipped Fuller trailed along behind  
them.

His mind otherwise occupied, Chris hadn’t even thought to ask for one last smoke.  He  
doubted that wish would have been granted anyway after the assault on Fuller and  
wondered if maybe they had expected the move.  Silently he cursed himself for being so  
predictable as he watched the scenery roll past.  But the drive gave him ample time to  
consider what he would do if Elliot wasn’t okay. 

A little more than an hour later he was given a hat and some sunglasses before they  
unloaded him still shackled at the service entrance of the hospital.  The few housekeeping  
employees who witnessed the bizarre parade to the back elevator raised eyebrows but  
minded their own business. 

“We’ve acquired an isolation suite,” Fuller informed him on the way up.  “That way we  
can control traffic in and out and maintain a greater degree of privacy.”

Private maybe, but hardly subtle Chris thought as they arrived on the infection control  
floor where one area was partitioned off with armed guards in front of a door.  Having  
been a guest at Bench a time or two himself, Chris knew it wasn’t SOP for prisoners.

“He just got back from X-ray,” one of the agents reported to Fuller as he opened the door  
and ushered the group into a little anti-room.  “The doctor is in with him now.”

The room was wide enough for a bed to be wheeled in and still allow the doors on each  
end to close at the same time.  Chris noticed a downward blast of air as he passed through  
the outer door.  There was a sink and some cabinets on one side of the doors and two  
chairs and a hamper on the other.

“Have a seat,” Fuller instructed Chris as he relieved him of his weak disguise, laying the  
hat and glasses on the cabinet.

Chris obeyed and shuffled over to the first chair to the soft clinking of chains as he sat.   
Fuller watched him then tapped on the inner door with a knuckle before slipping inside.   
The agent with the bag dropped it to the floor and nudged it out of the way before taking  
up a position near the sink.  The other one went back out into the hall.

A few minutes later the outside door opened again and Chris looked up to see an  
obviously stressed woman staring at him.  A boy and a girl held her hands on either side.

“Dad?” one of the children asked as they both rushed forward.

As Chris got to his feet they threw their arms around him.  He tried to still the swinging  
chains before a stray finger could accidentally get pinched as he glanced up again at the  
woman but his bewilderment passed quickly as he realized this was Elliot’s family, and  
by extension, his.

“Hey,” the woman told the kids gently as she tugged them back.  “This isn’t Dad; it’s  
your Uncle Chris.”

“Hi.” Chris grinned down at them as they stepped back in disbelief.

“Whoa,” the boy exclaimed with wide eyes as he gawked unashamedly.

“We’re twins, too,” the girl said, poking her brother.  “Like you and Dad.”

“Yeah? You don’t look like twins to me,” Chris teased.

“We’re fraternal,” the girl explained with an impatient sigh.  “Not identical.  Thank  
God.”

“That’s enough,” Mom declared as she stepped in tentatively to hug Chris, too.  “I’m  
Kathy,” she introduced herself.  “It’s nice to finally meet you.  This is Dickie and Lizzy.”

Flustered by the warm greeting, Chris didn’t know what to say but he smiled and tried to  
swallow the lump in his throat.  “I thought Elliot had four rug rats?” he asked, his voice  
slightly husky with unexpected emotion.

Kathy laughed.  “I’d already picked up the twins from school when I got the call from  
Agent Fuller so we drove straight here.  The older two, Maureen and Kathleen are home  
now.  They’re mad at me for not taking the time to go back and get them.”

“Sorry I missed them.”

“Some other time,” Kathy assured.  “I know they want to meet you.”

Fuller opened the door and cleared his throat as he stepped out.  “Mrs. Stabler?” he asked  
in surprise.

“Yes.”

“I didn’t expect you so soon.  The doctor is speaking with your husband.  Why don’t you  
go in?”

Kathy anxiously moved forward then stopped to look at the twins.

“I’ll keep an eye on them,” Chris offered hopefully.

“Okay,” Kathy agreed right away without any evident concern.  “It’ll give you a chance  
to get to know each other.  Be good for Uncle Chris,” she cautioned the kids before  
disappearing through the door.

Fuller didn’t seem too happy about the arrangement as he pushed the hamper out of the  
way and took a seat in the second chair, obviously not as trusting of Chris’ intentions.

Chris rolled his eyes at the unnecessary precautions and sat back down.  “Talk to me,” he  
encouraged the kids, delighted when Lizzy slid in to settle on his knee.  Dickie didn’t sit  
in his lap but stood close enough to examine the setup of the shackles. 

“So how old are you?” Chris asked Lizzy as she reached up to trace the faded bruise on  
his forehead.

“You don’t know?”

“No.”

“Guess.”

“I don’t know, like twenty-five?”

Lizzy giggled.  “No, we’re almost eleven.  In seven months.”

“Oh,” Chris nodded.  “So you don’t drive yet then, huh?”

“You’re silly.”

“Are you a bad man?” Dickie asked.

Taken aback, Chris managed a shrug.  “I’ve done some bad things.”

“Like what?”

Chris reluctantly met the inquisitive eyes and sighed.  “You mean why am I in prison?”

“You’re not in prison,” Lizzy corrected.  “You’re in a hospital.”

“Well, yeah, right this minute, smarty-pants,” Chris agreed as he tickled her with his  
bound hands. 

Lizzy laughed and squirmed away but came right back to snuggle even closer.  “Do you  
have to go back to jail?”

“Yeah, they’ll take me back right after I see your dad.”

 “Are you a pedophile?”  Dickie questioned with a straight forward interrogative style  
reminiscent of his father as he crossed his arms over his skinny chest. 

“No,” Chris answered defensively shooting an angry look Fuller’s way as he seemed to  
be thoroughly enjoying the inquisition.  “How do you even know what that is?”

“Dad puts pedophiles in jail.  He hates them,” Dickie explained.  “Did you kill  
somebody?”

“I robbed a grocery store and shot the clerk,” Chris admitted, slightly resentful of being  
taken to task by a little kid.  “He died.”

Seemingly content with Chris’ sanitized version of the truth, Dickie moved on.  “Do you  
hate Dad?  Cause he’s a cop and you’re a robber?”

“Of course not,” Chris denied vehemently.  “He’s my brother and he’s a good man.  I’m  
proud of him.”

“When will you get out jail?” Lizzy enquired as she slipped her hand into his.

“Not for a long, long time, sweetie,” Chris explained gently, leaning in to brush his lips  
across her forehead.

Dickie looked disappointed, too.  “You’re not gonna come for Christmas?”

Suddenly very sad, Chris shook his head.  “Maybe when you’ve got grandkids,” he  
mumbled, really wishing he could reach his eyes to wipe away the gathering moisture.

***

“Go,” Cragen told Olivia as soon as he got the call from the FBI.  And she did go without  
a second thought, even if the details were a bit sketchy.  All they knew for sure was the  
operation was a bust and Elliot had been sent by ambulance to Benchley Memorial. 

The hospital was a lot closer to Oz than Manhattan but it didn’t matter.  It was over and  
Elliot was out.  Come hell or high water Olivia was going to see her partner.  Not  
knowing his condition left her to imagine all sorts of horrible things on the way.  The  
drive seemed to take forever but after a brief stop for gas and directions the large,  
otherwise unremarkable white building finally loomed into view.

“Elliot Stabler?” Olivia asked as she rushed up to the information desk in the lobby.  “He  
was admitted today.”

The elderly volunteer behind the counter spelled Stabler to herself as she carefully  
entered each letter into her computer with fingers crooked by arthritis.  “No, no, I don’t  
have anyone by that name today or any other time.”

Olivia thought quickly, deciding they might have him under his brother’s name since  
he’d come straight from Oz.  “Try Christopher Keller.”

Dutifully typing in Chris’ name the woman once again shook her head.  “I’m sorry, dear,  
are you sure you have the right hospital?”

Releasing an exasperated breath and wondering why Fuller still felt the need to play it so  
coy, Olivia resorted to a little badge flashing.  “A prisoner was brought here from Oswald  
today,” she said as she stuck her ID under the woman’s nose.  “I don’t know what name  
they admitted him under but I’ll go room to room to find him if I have to.”

“A prisoner, you say?” the old girl clarified before tapping a little more swiftly on her  
keyboard.  “Why yes, we did receive a transfer from the prison this afternoon, a Mister  
John Doe.”

Certain she’d found him, Olivia’s mouth went dry as she asked her next question.   
“What’s his condition?”

“He’s listed as stable.”  Olivia released a huge sigh of relief as the woman adjusted her  
glasses and continued to read the information on her computer screen.  “That’s odd.  He’s  
just in for observation but he’s in an infection control room.  They probably won’t be  
allowing visitors.”

“Where?”

“Room four twelve.” 

“Thank you,” Olivia said as she tucked her badge into her pocket and headed for the main  
bank of elevators. 

“You’ll have to sign in when you get up there,” the volunteer called after her helpfully.

A few minutes later Olivia walked into the isolation wing.  A familiar face in the corridor  
got her attention and she headed down the hall without announcing herself at the nurses’  
station.  Agent Franks shook his head as she approached but opened a door without a  
word to reveal several people just inside.

When she realized the twins were with their father Olivia faltered in the doorway, not  
wanting to intrude on their moment.  She felt guilty for not even thinking of his family in  
her mad rush to the hospital and almost backed away to give them some privacy until  
Elliot raised his head to look at her.  If the clank of chains as he moved shattered the  
illusion, it was his eyes that confirmed the man wasn’t Elliot at all.  Chris was with the  
children and everything in her screamed to get them away from him.

“Lizzie, come here,” Olivia demanded in a knee jerk reaction as she caught Dickie by the  
shoulder and pulled him to her.

“Why?” the girl asked, frightened by the urgent tone as she huddled even closer to the  
source of Olivia’s alarm.

“Is there a problem, Detective Benson?” Fuller asked.  He looked almost annoyed by her  
sudden appearance as he stood from a chair only an arm’s length away.

“You know damn well there is,” Olivia hissed at him angrily.

Dickie flinched out of her grasp and went back to Chris’ side to gape at her.

“It’s okay,” Chris told the kids softly, not even attempting to meet Olivia’s glare.  “You  
should go with her.”

“I wanna stay with you, Uncle Chris,” Lizzie pled as she burrowed her head under his  
chin, wrapping her arms around his neck like she’d known him her entire life.

Chris swallowed and closed his eyes as he leaned into her, whispering comforting words  
into her hair.  As if wary of any possible allegations he kept his chained hands in fists  
tight against his own abdomen.  Dickie took a protective stance in front of them,  
attempting to shield them from Olivia’s rage.  Olivia blinked in shock and took a step  
back.

“I knew I shouldn’t have called Cragen,” Fuller replied as he tried to usher Olivia back  
into the hall.  “Everything is under control, Detective,” he told her when she refused to  
budge.  “Their mother knows exactly who they’re with.  I hardly think it’s your place to  
second guess her.”

“He’s dangerous,” Olivia insisted in a harsh murmur too low for the children to hear.

Fuller laughed as he took her elbow and firmly escorted her out.  “You don’t have to tell  
me,” he said, fingering his own throat as Franks stepped inside and closed the door.  “His  
reaction to his brother’s inauspicious exit from Oz was an adventure to say the least.”

“So how can you allow this?” Olivia asked, yanking her arm out of his grasp.

“This?  This is family business.  I was dubious at first but I’ve been watching them.  I can  
say without trepidation that Christopher Keller will not harm those children.  The lion has  
a lamb inside.  He hasn’t so much as uttered a curse word since he’s been with them.”

Olivia blew out a breath and paced away a few steps before turning on him.  “You saw  
what I saw.”

“Yes.  But no one is wholly good or absolutely evil.  It’s a continuum for all of us,”  
Fuller explained, closing the distance between them to maintain the hushed nature of the  
conversation.  “The fact that Keller warned you off proves he’s not all bad.  I think he  
deserves this chance to get to know his niece and nephew a little, that’s all.  In the long  
run I think it will be good for him.”

“Okay, I guess that’s what I don’t understand,” Olivia resisted, shaking her head.  “Why  
do you care what Chris wants or needs?”

“I don’t know,” Fuller confessed with his brow wrinkling in thought.  “Agent Taylor  
insists that these men are products of their environments and the more I interact with  
them the more I’m inclined to agree.  He thinks their destinies were decided by the toss of  
a coin, I suppose that touched me somehow.” 

“That’s crap.  And it doesn’t change the fact that Lizzie is cuddled up with a murderer.”

“Like it or not, he is her uncle.”

“So you decided to give him time alone with the kids,” Olivia accused.

“No, Mrs. Stabler did and she knows he’s no saint.  And they are not alone, they are  
being closely supervised,” Fuller said, losing his polished manner for a second.   
“Truthfully, I had hoped we would be long gone before she got here.  Never  
underestimate the speed of a worried wife.”

The door opened and a man in a lab coat emerged.  “Agent Fuller, I’m letting the children  
have five minutes with their father but then they’re going to have to leave.  That’s  
hospital policy and since I’m just a guest I can’t do anything about it.”

“He’s one of ours,” Fuller explained at Olivia’s questioning look.  “We arranged for  
temporary privileges here so he can look after Detective Stabler.”

“I can take the kids home if Kathy wants me to,” Olivia suggested instead of arguing  
further as she turned to the doctor.  “How is Elliot?”

“Mad as hell,” the doctor grinned.  “I’d hate to be in your shoes,” he told Fuller as he  
walked away, chart in hand. 

Fuller nodded sheepishly.  “It’s not going to be a fun debriefing.  At this point I would  
almost rather deal with Keller.  At least he’s in chains.”

“So what happened?” Olivia couldn’t help but ask even if she didn’t expect a straight  
answer.

“I was duped,” Fuller admitted.  “Please don’t feel the need to comment on my profiling  
skills.  I saw an opportunity and let my enthusiasm overtake my common sense.”

“You mean sending Elliot in as Chris?”

“That too, but Stabler tells me the informant wasn’t as committed as I was lead to  
believe.  The whole operation was based on a sham and now it’s all come down at my  
feet.  Oh well, I was starting to think about retirement anyway.”

“Will it come to that?” Olivia queried, feeling her animosity for the agent waver slightly. 

“Probably.  The cost of this mistake was far too high.  And I’m not just talking about the  
tax payers’ dollars.  We put Stabler and others in danger to get non-existent information,  
one of whom lost his life.  All I’m going to lose is a job,” Fuller added with a shrug.   
“But don’t worry about Taylor; he won’t suffer any of the fallout.”

“Believe me, Taylor doesn’t even rate on my worry scale,” Olivia assured.

“And Keller?”

Olivia harrumphed softly but didn’t try to put her feelings for Chris into words. 

“Remind me never to cross you,” Fuller teased, his charm coming back in full force.   
“I’m going for coffee.  Can I bring you anything?”

“No thanks.”  Olivia watched the older man walk away before opening the door again.   
The kids were apparently in with their parents and the two agents stood talking by the  
sink. 

Chris sat staring at his hands and pointedly did not look up when she entered the room.   
“They’re my blood,” he said crossly.  “How could you think I would hurt them?”

“They’re not your blood, they’re Elliot’s,” Olivia countered as she took the seat next to  
him.

“Same thing.”

Before getting into semantics with him Olivia bent to study Chris’ face.  She was  
surprised to find he wasn’t angry but deeply hurt and all the conman artistry in the world  
couldn’t cover it.  He looked away and Olivia swore she heard a sniff. 

“I haven’t been around a lot of ankle biters,” Chris began in a shaky voice.  “They seem  
so innocent.  So good.”

“You’re right, Elliot does have good kids.”

“Yeah?” Chris asked, finally looking up to let her see the raw emotion on his face.

“Yeah.”

“I told them I shot a man and they accepted me anyway.”

“What, were you trying to scare them off, too?” Olivia questioned with a futile attempt to  
keep the bitterness out of her voice.  She didn’t want to let on how much she still felt the  
sting of being pushed away.

“They deserve to know the truth,” Chris answered miserably.  “I never had a family  
before.  I mean I had a mom, but she had her own problems.  Even when I was married I  
always felt like it was me against the world.  Maybe that’s why it never worked out.”

Something clicked in her mind and Olivia suddenly understood why she’d felt like a  
kindred spirit to the convict almost from the minute she’d met him.  From an early age  
they’d both made their way in the world alone.  She reached over and took his hand. “I  
know.  I never had a real family either.” 

Chris smiled at her.  Not seductive or even playful, just an honest, heartfelt smile with no  
strings attached.  As it faded he just looked tired.  “I’m not a monster,” he said.  “I’m just  
really self-absorbed.”

Olivia squeezed his hand and the ice in her heart towards him melted a little more.  “Who  
told you that?” she asked.

“I don’t know.  Some shrink along the way.  But I think he might have been right.”

“Monster, self-absorbed…” Olivia let go of his hand and pretended to balance the two.   
“Okay, I guess I can buy that.”

“Take care of my brother,” Chris requested, nodding his head in the direction of Elliot’s  
room.  “He’s the only part of me that’s ever gonna get into heaven.”

Before she could answer the door opened and Lizzie and Dickie came tearing out to run  
straight to their uncle.  “Dad’s got an awesome bruise,” Dickie gushed. 

“It’s way worse than yours,” Lizzie added as she jumped back into Chris’ lap.

“Sorry,” Kathy sighed from the door.  “They get a little excited.”

“Nah, they’re great,” Chris grinned at her with a Keller special, obviously enjoying the  
attention.

“I’d be glad to take the twins home for you,” Olivia volunteered, even though she was no  
longer worried about their interactions with Chris.

“That’s okay,” Kathy replied.  “They’re going to keep Elliot over night and he needs  
some stuff from home.  I’m going to have Maureen meet us halfway.  He also wants to  
get his debriefing with the FBI over with and I’d just be in the way.”

“You’re leaving?” Chris asked, sounding disappointed.

Kathy leaned over and kissed his cheek.  “Elliot’s going to give you our number.  If you  
need anything, you call.  Understand?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“I’m going to make you a birthday card,” Lizzie announced as she stood and hugged him.

“I can’t wait to see it,” Chris told her with a pained smile.

“Bye Uncle Chris,” Dickie said as he unexpectedly gave him a hug, too.

“Bye, Dickie.”

“I’ll walk down with you.” Olivia got up as Kathy herded the kids out into the hall.  “Be  
right back,” she told Chris before walking out the door.

 Chris turned to Franks.  “Can I go in now?” he asked a little anxiously.

***

That Elliot had known Chris was nearby at least a minute before Fuller had come  
waltzing into his hospital room left him a little unnerved.  He might chalk it up to stress if  
seeing Kathy and half his brood hadn’t settled him right down.  But since he still felt it,  
whatever the hell it was, he wondered if it might be some phenomenon other identical  
twins simply took for granted, something he wasn’t used to since he hadn’t spent more  
than a few hours out of a lifetime with the man who shared his DNA. 

When his ‘spider sense’ kicked up a notch Elliot had no choice but to open his eyes and  
turn towards the door, even if every little movement sent a needle of pain shooting  
through his skull.  As if on cue the door opened and Chris came shuffling in fully  
shackled with a Federal Agent in his wake.

“That’s gotta hurt,” Chris proclaimed with a wince as soon he caught sight of Elliot’s  
new bruise.  “Did ya have fun at day camp?”

Elliot snorted involuntarily.  “It was a thrill a minute.”

“Sit down and stay there,” the Fed ordered Chris, stopping in the doorway.  “We’re on  
the fourth floor and that window is sealed in case you get any bright ideas.”

Chris cut his eyes at the agent but obediently slouched into the chair next to the bed.  He  
waited for the man to close the door before turning back to Elliot to examine the IV in the  
back of his hand and the lighted clothespin thingamajig on his finger.  The bed rail was  
already down and the covers appeared well-wallowed by children.  “What’d the doc  
say?” he asked worriedly.

“Subdural hematoma,” Elliot shrugged as he removed the oxygen cannula from his nose  
and tossed it away.  “A really tiny one though and it already stopped bleeding.  It just  
hurts like hell on top of my concussion, thank you very much.   I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure, but they’re gonna keep me here a day or two to be on the safe side.  So how  
was your holiday?”

“Boring,” Chris said with an indifferent huff. 

“At least you were out of Oz.”

“I don’t know, Elliot,” Chris sighed as he looked over his shoulder to stare out the locked  
window at the cloudless blue sky.  “Sometimes a little taste of freedom is worse than no  
freedom at all.  It makes you want things you can’t have.”

“In that case I’m sorry,” Elliot apologized awkwardly.  “Especially since it was all for  
nothing.”

“No shit?” Chris asked as he turned back toward the bed.  “You didn’t get what you went  
in for?”

“The whole op was a cluster fuck from beginning to end,” Elliot said with a bitter laugh.   
“Right off the bat Doctor Nathan pegged me as a plant because you have some scars that  
I don’t.  The Feds never even stopped to think I might get a physical.”

“I won’t bother to say I told you so since we both know I did,” Chris replied as he smiled  
knowingly and shook his head.  “Nathan didn’t give you up to the warden?”

“No, I talked her out of it.  She became a go between for me with Fuller so things looked  
good right up until the freakin’ water main broke.”

“I heard,” Chris commiserated.

 “Then they put Beecher in with me and Halstead.”

“You shared a pod with Toby?  I told you not to go near him.”

“Yeah, I know.  It wasn’t my idea,” Elliot paused for a second. “You were right about  
him.  He figured things out pretty fast when we ended up sharing a bunk.”

Chris clenched his jaw almost imperceptibly.  “Did you fuck him?” he questioned  
quietly.

“No!” Elliot denied before launching into the story he didn’t particularly want to tell.   
“There was one incident of inappropriate touching on his part, but he thought I was you  
at the time.  Still, I nearly strangled him for it.”

“Goddammit. You didn’t hurt him, did you?” Chris asked with concern, obviously not  
sure where to put his allegiance in this case.

“I did a little, but he’s okay.  He even helped me keep my cover by pretending you were  
back together with him.”  Elliot took a deep breath before going on.  “There was some  
kissing but rest assured it was strictly for show.”

As unpredictable as ever, Chris got over his fit of resentment and merely chuckled at  
Elliot’s unhappy confession.  “And you hated every minute of it.”

“It was weird at first,” Elliot admitted, “Kissing someone besides my wife.”

“Kissing a man, you mean?”

“That too.”

“You should’a let Beech suck you off to break the ice,” Chris decided with an evil grin.   
“He’s really good.  You would have liked it.”

“Jesus, Chris,” Elliot complained as he gingerly rubbed his sore face. 

“Who the fuck is Halstead?”

“Oh right, you don’t know Dwayne.  He’s your new pod mate.  And… oh yeah, he’s your  
bitch,” Elliot added to take the air out of Chris’ gloating. 

“What?” Chris blurted out, losing his cool façade as he sat bolt upright.  “You’d better be  
shittin’ me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Elliot said with a smirk of satisfaction at the response. “He  
should be gone by the time you get back.  McManus is an indecisive mother fucker but  
Fuller’s feeling guilty so he promised to put a rush on the arrangements.”

“I damned well hope so.  I got enough to deal with without taking on some fucking prag.”

“Look, Halstead may be a geeky little bastard, but he saved my life.”

“Yeah?” Chris asked distrustfully as he simmered down and eased back against the chair  
cushion.  “How’d he do that?”

“To tell you the truth, I’m not really sure.  You’ll have to ask Beecher.  There’s a lot of  
other stuff I should probably tell you but I’m kinda fuzzy on the details right now.”

Chris made a rude noise and waved his hand dismissively as far as the chain allowed.   
“Don’t strain yourself, I like surprises.  They keep things interesting.”

“Liar.  You don’t like surprises any more than I do.”

“I doubt you did anything that’s gonna drastically change my life.”

“Well I did beat up a couple of Aryans,” Elliot remembered.  “Okay, Cyril O’Reily  
actually pounded one of them into the ground but I took the blame.”

“Good for Cyril,” Chris grinned approvingly.  “Don’t sweat it, stuff like that just  
strengthens my rep.”

“What if they try to get revenge?”

“The Aryans were after my ass anyway.  What else?  Because there’s something I need to  
talk to you about and Fuller’s not gonna give us all day.”

“Just a piece of advice,” Elliot said seriously.  “I know you and Ryan got up to something  
shady together, but I don’t think you can trust him.”

“Oh, believe me, I don’t.  There’s trust and then there’s O’Reily.  We only dance when  
it’s mutually beneficial.”

“I don’t want the details.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Chris agreed with a nod of his head as he leaned forward  
again.  “So I guess Taylor struck out then, too?”

“I can’t tell him anything he doesn’t already know,” Elliot assured, not mentioning how  
close he’d come to begging Beecher for the truth.  “You know, I used to wonder about  
these people I’d see in court.  How they came day after day to support a family member  
who’d committed some terrible crime.”

“Huh. And now look who’s in the hot seat,” Chris murmured without rancor.  “That’s  
sorta what I wanted to say to you.  It could be very bad for your career if anyone finds out  
about me.”

“I don’t care what you did,” Elliot managed with some difficulty. 

“You should.”

“It doesn’t matter now.  You’re my brother.  I’m not gonna treat your existence like some  
dirty little secret.”

“That’s exactly what you gotta do.  For both our sakes.”

“What?  Don’t you want to get to know my kids?  Lizzie took right to you and Dickie  
thinks you’re ‘bad’.”

“I am bad.”

“No, in ten-year-old speak I’m pretty sure that’s good.  You haven’t even met Maureen  
and Kathleen yet.”

“In a perfect world being part of your family would be great, Elliot.  Don’t get me wrong,  
I love your kids already just because they’re yours,” Chris stated with the tiniest quiver in  
his voice.  “But try to understand, I’ve got enemies.  And they would gladly take our feud  
outside Oz if they thought they found a way to hurt me.  If you don’t believe that just ask  
Beecher.” 

Elliot’s knuckles went white as he gripped the blanket.  He hadn’t considered that  
particular risk.  “Schillinger.”

“When I betrayed that cocksucker I didn’t have anyone on the outside to worry about.   
Now that I do it makes me weak.”

“I protect my own and that includes you,” Elliot persisted, stubbornly searching for a way  
around the problem.  “We’ll get you transferred out of Oz and away from him.”

“I don’t want to leave Em City.  I know it’s still prison but it’s a hell of a lot better than  
any other cellblock I’ve ever been on.”

“And Beecher’s there.”

“Yeah.”

Elliot blew out a breath.  “Toby’s not a lifer.  You can’t make this kind of decision  
without considering that.  Eventually he’ll get out and where will you be then?”

“Yeah, well I have to live in the moment, don’t I?  Listen, big brother, this situation is not  
forever.  One of these days Schillinger is gonna have a tragic accident and we won’t have  
to worry about him anymore.”

“Dammit, Chris,” Elliot grunted irritably.  “If something happens to Schillinger now what  
am I supposed to think?” 

“Hey, I didn’t say I was gonna whack him,” Chris retorted with a practiced innocence  
that didn’t escape Elliot’s notice.  “Vern has enemies, too, not the least of which is Ryan  
O’Reily for raping his brother.”

Elliot bristled at the reminder.  “I know.  I’d really like to do something about that but  
I’m afraid my hands are tied.”

“So we agree?  Until someone does Schillinger in, you need to stay the fuck away from  
me.”

“I just found you.”

“Look, I ain’t trying to be all noble and shit.  You make me vulnerable.  Worrying about  
your children will drive me out of my mind.  And God help me if anything ever happened  
to one of them because of me.  Please,” Chris begged.  “If you won’t do it for me, do it  
for them.”

There was a tap on the door and Fuller opened it slowly.  “Time’s up, gentlemen.  We  
need to get Mr. Keller back to Oz.  Agent Franks is going to release you so you can  
change,” he told Chris as Franks slipped into the room and motioned for him to hold out  
his hands.

Angry and hurt, Elliot looked away while Franks freed his brother from the chains.

“Thank God,” Chris exclaimed, stretching expansively before shrugging out of Elliot’s  
sweatshirt and tossing it into the chair he’d just vacated.  “Where are my clothes?”

“Probably in there,” Fuller pointed to the narrow closet next to the bathroom.  “We’ll  
give you ten minutes,” he added before motioning Franks out with him.

Thirty seconds later the door opened again and Olivia stuck her head in.  “Knock, knock.   
Anyone home?”

“Nobody here but us chickens,” Chris called back to her flirtatiously as he pulled the neat  
stack of clothes out of the closet and set them down near Elliot’s feet.

Olivia flashed Chris a grin but went straight to Elliot’s side.  “Hey partner,” she said as  
she patted his wrist above the IV site.  “It’s good to see you.”

“Liv,” Elliot greeted warmly, reaching across with his other hand to give her arm a  
squeeze.

“I’m going to stay with you until Kathy gets back,” Olivia told him as she picked up the  
sweatshirt and sat in the chair.  A soft hissing sound caught her attention and she plucked  
the oxygen tube off the floor and held it out to him.  “Shouldn’t you be wearing this?”

“No.”

“Then why is it still on?”

“There you go thinking like a cop again,” Elliot protested as he pushed the cannula away.

“Are you wearing my underwear?” Chris broke up the imminent argument as he scattered  
the clothes across the foot of the bed as if looking for something.

“Yeah, but trust me, you don’t want this pair.  They’re ripped in the crotch.”

“Huh.  Wonder how that happened,” Chris smirked as he kicked off the running shoes  
and undid his pants.  “Do you want these back?” he asked, pointing to the blue bikinis as  
he unceremoniously proceeded to get all but naked in front of Olivia.

Elliot tried to raise an eyebrow but thought better of it.  “No, I’ve seen your wardrobe.   
You need them worse than I do.”

“Can I keep the socks, too?”

“Sure.  Liv?” Elliot called out, trailing tubing and wires as he waved his hand in front of  
her face.

“Hmm?” Liv tore her attention away from the floor show.  “What?”

“Stop ogling my brother.”

“I wasn’t ogling.”

“Yes you were,” Chris said smugly, stepping into his dungarees and zipping up.  “Just  
like you always do.”

This time Elliot’s eyebrows did go up.  “Ow.  Always?”

“I can’t help it if he’s an exhibitionist,” Olivia insisted with a glare Chris’ way for telling.   
“Forget underwear, you should send him a trench coat.”

“Don’t send me anything,” Chris disagreed abruptly as he pulled on the Henley.   
“Postmark?  Return address?  It’s too dangerous.  Remember, Vern runs the fucking  
mailroom.  I probably wouldn’t get it anyway.”

Elliot nodded gloomily.  “I know.”

“Good.  Boots?”

“Closet.”

“God.  You men and your one syllable conversations,” Olivia grumbled.  “Actually, it’s  
kind of surreal having you both in the room at the same time.”

“Just think,” Chris offered as he found his boots and leaned against the footboard to put  
them on.  “If we had grown up together we might’ve had our own language.”

“Dickie and Lizzie did,” Elliot said pensively. 

“Really?” Chris looked up in amazement as he finished tying the laces.  “So they did all  
that twin stuff?”

“Come ’ere,” Elliot requested without answering the question, gesturing for Chris to  
come closer. 

Olivia glanced at Chris then pushed the chair out of his way as she got up and stepped  
back to give them a little privacy. 

Chris put his hands on either side of Elliot’s shoulders as he hunched over him. 

“Can you feel me?” Elliot asked uneasily, gripping Chris’ elbows.  “When I’m near?”

“I guess.  I mean, yeah, I think so,” Chris whispered in wonder as the realization struck  
him.  He lowered his forehead to Elliot’s, barely touching him as he closed his eyes.  “It  
doesn’t matter though.  You’ve got to forget about me.  ”

“I can’t.”

Chris leaned in harder, applying some carefully controlled pressure directly over Elliot’s  
injury, pinning him to the pillow.  “We’re no good for each other.  Promise you’ll stay  
away.”

Elliot hissed in pain but didn’t fight.  But Olivia jumped in immediately to try and  
separate them.  “Ease up,” she ordered as she tugged at Chris’ arm.  “You’re going to  
hurt him.”

“Stay away from me,” Chris begged Elliot without opening his eyes, now gripping his  
shoulders ruthlessly, locking them together to counter Olivia’s increasing efforts.  “I  
don’t want to have to make you hate me.” 

“I won’t ever hate you.”

“You will,” Chris insisted.  “I’ll fuck up and then you will.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what I do!” Chris yelled as he backed off a couple inches to glare into  
Elliot’s eyes.  A world of emotion passed between them as they stared each other down,  
two immovable objects going head to head.

When Chris’ eyes went cold Elliot physically flinched, fearing another head butt.   
Instead, to his shock and horror, Chris kissed him on the mouth.  Not a brotherly peck but  
something deeper and darker, like he was trying to crawl inside him.  Elliot shoved at him  
but Chris’ fingers dug brutally into his arms as he hung on.  He could feel the force of  
Olivia’s blows to Chris’ back right through his body. 

“Chris, don’t do this,” Olivia’s voice kept repeating somewhere in the distance.  “Stop  
it!”

Elliot tasted blood before he realized he was biting Chris’ lip and then the assault was  
over.  Chris kept a grip on his arms as he pulled back only far enough to speak huskily  
into Elliot’s ear.  “Hate me now?”

“What the fuck!” Elliot spat out as he pushed Chris off of him and wiped his mouth  
roughly with his forearm leaving a smear of red.

Chris was already across the room.  “Stay away,” he warned one last time without  
looking back.  Then he was gone.

“What the hell was that?” Elliot asked, resisting Olivia’s frantic attempt to check him for  
injuries.

“Son of a bitch,” Olivia swore as she suddenly stopped and turned to look at the door.   
“He did it again.”

***

“Liv,” Elliot called her back as soon Olivia started for the exit.  “Let him go.”

“He’s manipulating you,” Olivia replied heatedly, stopping just short of her destination.   
“He’ll do or say whatever it takes to make you bend to his will, even if it means severing  
your relationship.”

“I realize that,” Elliot sighed, looking physically ill and emotionally drained as he lay  
back down.  “But as much as I hate to admit it, he’s got a point.  He has enemies that  
would put Kathy and the kids in jeopardy if they ever found out about us.”

“Even if that’s true you don’t have to cut him completely out of your life.  There has to  
be another way.  Just talk to him.”

“What good will that do?  He’s the most stubborn human being I’ve ever met.”

“Image that, your brother is stubborn,” Olivia retorted with a snort. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“At least don’t let him leave thinking you hate him.  As much as Chris likes to play the  
tough guy that would probably kill him.”

Elliot closed his eyes wearily.  “Okay,” he gave in at last.  “I guess I can do that.”

With a determined nod Olivia grabbed the handle and yanked the door open.  “Stop,” she  
ordered, startling the three men in the anti-room.

Chris stared up at her from where he sat in a chair while Franks secured the lower portion  
of the shackles.  “Stay out of this, Olivia,” he said irritably, rubbing his face briskly while  
his hands were still free.

“Shut up and get your ass back in there.”

“Detective Benson we don’t have time for this …”

“You can shut up, too, Fuller.  You weren’t worried about time when you dragged these  
guys into your screwed up operation.  It seems to me you stole whole days out of their  
lives.  The very least you can do is give them a few minutes to settle their differences.”

“There’s nothing to settle,” Chris growled as he stood up defiantly; looking ready for a  
fight.

“I’m not afraid of you anymore,” Olivia told him as she stepped squarely into his  
personal space.  “You project menace really well and maybe you do have a darkness in  
your soul but you’re more than that, aren’t you?  You said it yourself, you’re not a  
monster.  You’re just a spoiled child who’ll do anything to get your own way.”

“My way,” Chris roared, pointing a finger in Olivia’s face, “Will keep Elliot’s family  
alive.”

Olivia captured his hand between hers and drew it against her cheek.  “He knows that.   
He just wants to talk.  Please, Chris.”

“I can’t go back in there,” Chris whispered urgently, the anger replaced by an almost  
embarrassed reticence.

“He doesn’t hate you.  Not yet.  But if you walk away from him like this I don’t know if  
he’ll ever forgive you.”

Chris glanced at Fuller as if looking for guidance rather than permission.  Fuller sighed  
deeply but waved a hand at the door.  “You’ve got ten more minutes.”

“Take all the time you need,” Olivia countered, speaking to Chris as she released his  
hand but daring Fuller to contradict her.

“What about the shackles?” Franks asked his boss.

“I would never hurt Elliot if that’s what you’re worried about,” Chris objected with an  
offended glower.

“Just leave them like they are,” Fuller advised.  “I trust him.”

Chris gave the older man a grateful look then opened the door.  “Give us a minute?” he  
requested of Olivia.

“Of course,” she agreed, patting his shoulder for encouragement.

***

After taking a deep breath to steady himself Chris stepped into Elliot’s room, closed the  
door, and then leaned his back against it.  “I didn’t leave,” he stated the obvious as he  
stared at the floor in front of his boots.

“I know,” Elliot assured him quietly.  “Apparently my radar is still tuned to you whether  
you’re a jackass or not.”

“I made my feelings known.  I don’t have anything to add,” Chris said still looking  
anywhere but at Elliot as he stuck his hands behind his back and promptly clammed up.

Elliot watched him for a minute or two before speaking again. “Toby’s a better kisser,”  
he finally declared to get his attention.

“What?” Chris asked, his head shooting up at the unexpected announcement.

“At least he didn’t make me bleed.”

Chris huffed and reached up to touch his sore lip.  “I believe that was my blood,” he  
argued lightly.

“Whatever.  You know, I tried the same shit with Toby.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, same tactic, same result… different reasons.  I was just trying to make him think I  
was you.  I wasn’t trying to fuck with his head.”

Chris narrowed his eyes as he absently fingered the chains hanging down his thigh but he  
didn’t bother to deny it.

“Do you really think I’m such a homophobe one kiss would send me running?” Elliot  
questioned.  “Or was it the incest angle you were going for?”

“What do you mean?”

“Uh, brothers don’t generally kiss each other on the mouth,” Elliot pointed out  
emphatically.

“Why not?” Chris asked, clearly at a loss.

“Why not?” Elliot echoed in disbelief.  “Because they don’t.  At least not in my family.”

“You’ve got another brother,” Chris realized, stunned into making eye contact.

Elliot nodded.  “Three of them in fact.  And two sisters.”

“Fuck,” Chris mumbled as he went to the window.  “I always thought you were mine.”

“When I first found out about you I admit I questioned my place with them.  But no  
matter what, they are my family.  We have history.”

“And you and me,” Chris said, sounding devastated, “We don’t.”

“No.  But we’ve got blood.  And my relationship with them doesn’t change anything  
between us,” Elliot promised. 

Chris put his hands against the glass and idly studied the window.  Franks was right, it  
didn’t open.  He concentrated on the parking lot below, watching the people come and go  
as they pleased.  “So how do you show affection to a brother?” he finally asked.

“You beat the crap out of each other,” Elliot explained with a shrug. 

“Okay, at least I got that right,” Chris brooded as he cast a glance at the mark on Elliot’s  
face, even if it was buried under the more recent bruise.  “So you’re saying brothers  
aren’t supposed to kiss.”

“How could you not know that?”

“How the hell would I know?  Ma’s the only one I have ‘history’ with except for a few  
stepfathers that blew in and out of my life.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t go around kissing your mother on the mouth.  Did you?”

“Our mother, you mean?  Well I didn’t exactly slip her the tongue or anything, but yeah,  
sure.  She kissed me a lot when I was little.  I was all she had at the time.  I presume you  
don’t approve of that either?”

“You were a kid,” Elliot said grimly.  “It wasn’t your fault.”

“You’re supposed to kiss the people you love,” Chris persisted, not willing to let it go.

“I guess we were just raised differently.”

“No.  Of all the shit I did wrong in my life, kissing the people I care about wasn’t one of  
them.  Even a priest told me it was okay.”

“What priest?” Elliot asked with a shudder as his gut went into overdrive.

“You know, when I was an altar boy.  It was weird at first but he convinced me it was a  
natural display of affection.”

Elliot sat up in the bed.  “Come over here,” he commanded abruptly.

“Why?”

“Just do it.  If you don’t come to me, I’ll come to you.”

“Shit, Elliot,” Chris muttered as he pushed away from the window and wandered to the  
bed.  “Don’t sweat it now, that was thirty years ago.”

Elliot grabbed his arm and tugged him down to sit beside him.  “Did he do anything else  
to you?”

“Well he tried,” Chris laughed.  “But I broke his nose when he stuck his hand down my  
pants.  I was only eight but even I knew that wasn’t kosher.  I’d already had a lecture and  
a couple slaps with a ruler from the nun who caught me playing doctor with a little girl in  
my Sunday school class.”

“Did you ever tell anyone what he did?” Elliot asked, mortified by the revelation but not  
particularly surprised.

“Hell yeah.  I told the nun since she seemed to have a problem with that kind of thing.   
She told me to keep my fucking mouth shut.”

“So you weren’t kidding when you said you made a priest cry and a nun cuss.”

“Why would I lie about something like that?” Chris asked with genuine perplexity.  “You  
know, fucking up a priest gives you some jizz in Catholic school.  Course they kicked me  
out right after that, but still.  For a minute there I was cock of the walk.”

“Do you remember the priest’s name?” the detective in Elliot pushed for more  
information.

“Nah,” Chris replied as he patted Elliot’s knee.  “But he died a long time ago.  He ain’t  
bothering anybody in hell.”

“Good,” Elliot said with a vindictive sniff.

“Forget about it.  I did.  It didn’t make me gay and it sure as hell didn’t make me a serial  
killer.  Okay?  Contrary to popular belief, I’m not either of those things.”

“You’re not gay?” Elliot blurted out incredulously.  “You just fuck other men.”

“Yeah, well fuck you,” Chris swore, looking betrayed as he tried to get up.

“I’m sorry,” Elliot said quickly, keeping a tight grip on Chris’ arm to keep him from  
bolting.  “I’m not judging you.  But what about Toby?”

Chris set his jaw and his nostrils flared slightly with his elevated respirations.  “That’s  
different.”

“He loves you,” Elliot soothed.  “And if you have to be in prison I can’t think of anyone  
I’d rather see you with than Beecher.”

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter.”

“I’m not.  Beecher bent over backwards to protect me when he thought I was you.  And  
then when he found out he protected me anyway just because I’m your brother.”

“Don’t worry about me and Toby.  We’ll work things out one way or another.”

Elliot pulled up his legs to make more room for Chris and they sat together in silence for  
a few minutes.  “I’ll stay away,” Elliot said at last.  “No visits, no packages, no letters.”

“It’s not forever,” Chris agreed sadly.  “Just don’t forget me.”

“Like I could.”

“Kiss me.”

“No Chris …”

“Oh come on.  If I beat you up in your condition I’d probably kill you.  Please?  I don’t  
know when I’ll see you again.”

“That’s emotional blackmail,” Elliot protested.  “How about a hug instead?”

“I guess you’re not too big on those either.  All right.”

“Keep your mouth to yourself,” Elliot warned, situating his IV line out of the way.

“Fucking prude,” Chris complained as he wrapped his arms around him.  They closed  
their eyes and held on tight.  When Chris pressed his lips to his temple Elliot only sighed.

“Now isn’t this better?” Olivia asked from the door. 

They opened their eyes to glare at her but didn’t pull apart. 

“Fuller says you have to go now,” Olivia explained.  “I’m sorry, I tried to get you some  
more time.”

“Love you,” Chris whispered into Elliot’s ear before bussing his cheek.

“Ditto,” Elliot said with a final embrace.  “Stay out of trouble,” he added as Chris slid off  
the bed to the ever present jangle of chains.

“You only ask for the hard stuff, don’t you?” Chris noted as he moved across the room  
toward Olivia.  “See ya, gorgeous,” he said as he passed her, boldly patting her rear.  He  
grunted when she slugged him in the ribs but his grin never faltered as he ducked out the  
door.

“Nice upper cut,” Elliot approved tiredly.  He made a half-assed effort to straighten the  
covers as he stretched out. 

“Thank you.  You should see my right cross.”  Olivia pulled the chair back to the side of  
the bed and sat in it.  “You okay?”

“I will be.  Just next time I volunteer for anything smack some sense into me, would  
you?”

“Oh, trust me, I will,” Olivia assured.  She kicked off her shoes and propped her feet on  
the side of the bed.  “It’s been a hell of a day.”

Feeling a little lost, Elliot settled his hand on her ankle and gently rubbed the bone with  
his thumb.  “That could have been me,” he said guiltily.  “That could be my life.”

“Never,” Olivia disagreed, sounding certain in spite of the lump in her throat.

***

Fuller jingled the coins in his pocket as he watched Franks shackle Keller’s wrists.   
“Halstead should be taken care of by the time you get there,” he offered just to have  
something to say.

Keller shrugged impassively, letting Franks slip the sunglasses on his face and then settle  
the hat onto his head.   

“I won’t say it’s been an honor meeting you, but it has been interesting,” Fuller said as a  
good-bye.  “I’m sorry you lost,” he added almost as a benediction.  He pulled out a  
quarter and tucked it into Keller’s palm before heading back into the lion’s den to debrief  
Stabler.

“I’m not,” Keller murmured as Franks tugged him out into the hall to begin the journey  
back to Oz.


	23. the end

_And so we see, the sign of the twins is contradictory.  Adaptable, versatile, and_   
_witty verses cunning, inconsistent, and shallow.  Luckily most Geminis have the_   
_ability to use their above average intelligence to control and unify the duality of_   
_their natures, combining the parts that serve them best.  All things considered,_   
_even at their worst … they are never dull._

_\---Augustus Hill_

  
Fuller arranged for a van from the prison to pick Keller and his phony hospital records up  
at the ER thus getting him back into the system and out of the FBI’s hair.  Then a quick  
check in the infirmary, where Doctor Nathan merely took a brief glance at his forearm  
and nodded at him as she rushed over to another emergency, left Chris arriving at the gate  
of Em City a few minutes after lockdown. 

While he wouldn’t have traded the extra time with Elliot for anything, he was somewhat  
exasperated that Beecher was already out of reach for the night.  But Toby had waited  
this long, he would certainly keep for another twelve hours or so Chris consoled himself.   
Besides, he wasn’t in the best of moods for a reconsolidation anyway.  Returning to Oz  
was like a shock to his system, poisonous and profound.  He really just wanted to hit  
something and he wasn’t too particular about what.  Or who.  Since most of the really  
desirable targets were locked away until morning, his tardiness was probably for the best  
he decided sourly.

As the bars slid aside Murphy met him with a bewildered expression on his face.

“What?” Chris asked him listlessly, keeping his current feelings of hostility for every  
living thing to himself. 

“I don’t know,” Murphy replied as he moved around to get another angle.  “You just look  
a lot better than you did when you left.”

“Ain’t medical science grand?” Chris deadpanned.

“What’d you say to Nathan?” Murphy asked, overlooking the sarcasm as he glanced at  
the clipboard in his hand.  “She didn’t even order us to wake you every two hours this  
time.”

“Maybe she thinks I need my beauty sleep.”

“Let’s go,” Murphy instructed with annoyance, finally getting enough attitude.  “You  
made it in the nick of time to kiss your girlfriend good-bye.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t know how, but Halstead made a deal with the Feds.  They’re shipping him to  
Edgecombe tonight.”

“Edgecombe?  That’s like a country club or a spa or some shit,” Chris remarked as he  
allowed himself to be herded towards the common area.

“Compared to Oz?” Murphy asked with a smirk.  “You bet.”

Chris glanced toward Toby’s pod but was disappointed to see no one at the door.  Then  
movement caught his attention and his eyes were drawn to the baby CO escorting an ugly  
inmate with a bag slung over his shoulder down the stairs. 

“Ugh,” Chris muttered with a grimace.  Thanks to Elliot everyone thought he had fucked  
that, which didn’t improve his mood any.  Then again, somehow the little shit had  
managed to save his brother’s life so as far as Chris was concerned, Halstead was golden.   
As long as he kept his mouth shut.

The man moved nervously, appearing even more worried the closer he got. 

“Hold up a minute,” Chris requested when they passed at the foot of the stairs, receiving  
a little shriek of terror as he reached for Halstead.  “Easy there, chief,” he soothed as he  
caught him by the elbow.  “I just wanted to say I owe you one.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” the unlikely hero fumbled for words, literally shaking in his boots.

“Just don’t ever make me come looking for you,” Chris added meaningfully.

Halstead went ashen and stumbled when Chris released him, but nodded vehemently.   
“Yes sir.  I mean, no sir.  I mean I’m going to forget everything about Oz, I swear to  
God.”

“Good boy,” Chris approved, knowing his message had been received. 

The young hack glared at Chris as he roughly prodded Halstead towards the gate.  For  
some reason the guard’s petulance struck him as funny and he felt his bad mood start to  
lift.  Moving forward with a little of his usual strut, he faltered when he glanced back to  
find Toby plastered to his door.  The sight was like balm to his soul.  He treated Beecher  
to a simmering gaze until Murphy lost patience and tapped him lightly on the back with  
his nightstick in warning. 

“Move your ass, Keller, or you might find it back in the hole.”

Chris grinned, never taking his eyes off Toby.  “I’m going,” he said before taking a deep  
lungful of the re-circulated air that smelled strangely of home. 

When he got to his pod he immediately went to the spot where he watched Toby night  
after night.  He wasn’t disappointed as Beecher was already in place.  “Soon,” Chris  
promised as he leaned his head against the glass to soak up the view.

***

For the first time in a long time the buzz and blare that heralded the lights startled Chris  
out of a sound sleep.  Another day in paradise, he thought acerbically as he made his way  
out to the rail.  But the rest of the world seemed to fade away as he watched Beecher and  
Beecher watched him.  And as soon as count was over Toby was on his way across the  
quad.  Deciding their reunion would probably go better in the relative privacy of his pod  
Chris opted to go ahead and take a much needed piss and let Toby come to him.

Two shakes later Beecher came tearing through the door to slam him against the wall.   
“Jesus, Tobe,” Chris laughed, “I know you missed me but at least let me put it away.”

“Don’t bother,” Toby replied as he yanked Chris’ pants down a little further.  “What the  
fuck?” he gasped at the sight of the skimpy blue underwear.

“Yeah, you like these, don’t cha?”

“This,” Toby corrected with a satisfied sigh as he palmed the butterfly tattoo, rubbing the  
warm skin of Chris’ thigh.  “This is what I came to see.” 

Chris moved to grab Toby’s shoulders, intending to score a little welcome home kiss  
before the hacks showed up.  But Beecher pushed his hands away and practically tore his  
shirt off. 

“And this,” Toby uttered almost reverently as he nuzzled the healed gunshot wound. 

Aware his rapidly hardening dick was pretty much on display in the fully lit and see-  
through cell, Chris tucked himself in and fastened his pants before combing his fingers  
through Toby’s hair.  “I missed you,” he said quietly.

“Don’t ever leave me again,” Toby whispered into his chest.

“I need you to promise you won’t tell anybody about what really happened these last few  
days,” Chris requested as he slipped a hand under Beecher’s chin to lift his head.  He  
frowned sadly at the perfect fit as he placed his fingers in the corresponding marks on the  
bruised skin of his neck.  “No matter what goes down between you and me, don’t ever rat  
out my brother.”

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’s got a hard head.  Swear it, Toby.  He’s got nothing to do with my shit.”

“I know, I swear.”

As he moved in for another try at a kiss a loud thump sounded on the door.  “What do  
you want, O’Reilly?” Chris groaned in exasperation.

“I just wanted to see if you’re okay,” Ryan said with a sly smile as he stepped inside.   
“Oh, and to tell you Murphy’s on his way and he don’t look very happy.  I guess he saw  
Beecher’s mad dash up the stairs.”

“Fuck.”

“Welcome to Oz,” Beecher grinned manically.  “Baby.”

***  
 **Epilogue I.**  
 **Edgecombe Minimum Security Correctional Facility**

The normal clatter and chatter of breakfast fell silent as the newcomer entered the dining  
room and got in line.  Slowly the level of noise picked back up and swatches of  
conversations with the same key words could be heard all around.  Oswald.  Mafia.   
Murder.  Stone Halstead.

“But what’s he doing here?” someone asked shrilly leaving the room in another stilted  
silence.

Taking his tray, the man scanned the room warily as he moved to a nearly vacant table.   
The two inmates already seated there scattered as he sat down.  He ate with his head  
slightly lowered but kept an attentive eye on what went on around him, all the while  
projecting an aura of ‘don’t mess with me’.   And no one dared.

As he finished up a skinny, often mistreated man who’d been watching him eat, waiting  
for an opening, slipped into the seat next to him.  “Mr. Halstead?”

“What do you want?”

“Did you really kill a mob assassin with your bare hands?”

Halstead shrugged.  “No, I used a phone cord.  He was fucking with my friend.”

“Really.”  The man gulped slightly as he offered his hand.  “I’m Leroy.  And I want to be  
your friend.”

“Yeah?”

“More than anything.”

A surprised smile appeared on Halstead’s face but he quickly wiped it away.  He cleared  
his throat and shook Leroy’s hand.  “You can call me Stone.”

***

**Epilogue II.**  
 **Manhattan SVU Squadroom**  
One week later

“Hey,” Munch greeted cheerfully as he and his partner returned from court.  “Look who’s  
here.  Welcome back, stranger.”

“Thanks, John,” Elliot smiled as he cracked his knuckles and took a break from typing. 

“So the doc cleared ya?” Fin asked, settling in at his desk.

“Not exactly.  I got one week of desk duty first.”

“Two weeks,” Olivia corrected without looking up from her own work.

“Then I’m back in action,” Elliot finished with an annoyed glower at Olivia.  “In the  
meantime if you need anything I’ll be your researcher/clerk/typist/bitch.”

“Good for us, bad for you,” Fin laughed.  “I always wanted a secretary.  You can call in  
our lunch order.” 

“Oh, right.  As long as you’re not gonna take advantage or anything,” Elliot teased as he  
reached for the phone.  “Fuck!” he exclaimed as he knocked over his coffee.  He grabbed  
some folders out of harm’s way and pushed his chair back from the hot liquid dripping  
off his desk.

“Elliot,” Olivia admonished in surprise, jumping up to grab some paper towels.

Munch cast him an assessing glance over the tops of his glasses.

“What?” Elliot asked in confusion as he moved a little further to get out of Olivia’s way  
as she cleaned up his mess.

“You dropped the F-bomb,” Munch supplied helpfully.

“I did?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Fin commiserated.  “I been deep cover.  It’s easy to go gangsta.   
It ain’t so easy coming back.”

“Yeah,” Elliot agreed sullenly.  He grabbed the trashcan and held it out for Olivia to drop  
the soiled towels into.  “Thanks, Liv.”

“Fin’s right,” Olivia told him quietly as she dabbed at the splash on his knee.  “You were  
just playing a role.” 

“I know,” Elliot sighed, finally smiling as he got up.  “I’ve got an errand to run.  I’ll bring  
lunch back with me.”

***

**Epilogue III.**   
**Oz**

Chris sat on the infirmary bed rolling the quarter across his knuckles.  Back and forth, up  
and down.  It was a trick Artie had taught him years ago.  Funny, until now he hadn’t  
ever thought of Artie as family, hadn’t much thought of him at all for a long, long time.   
He idly wondered if the old man was still alive.

“Hey, sorry to keep you waiting,” Doctor Nathan said as she approached with a devious  
expression on her face, obviously up to something.  “Nice hickey.”

“Thanks.  Beecher got carried away,” Chris offered with his sexiest grin.  “Why’d you  
want to see me?”

“Come in my office.”

The doors burst open and a gurney was wheeled inside with a small, heavily made-up  
man lying on his side covered with a blanket, a spot of blood soaking through.  “Keller?   
Oh my God, as I live and breath, it is you!” the inmate called out as soon as he saw Chris.   
“Mmm, mmm, mmm.  Heaven on two legs.”

“Gerald,” Doctor Nathan scolded angrily as she lifted the cover to take a quick peek at  
his backside.  “You’re going to end up with a colostomy if you don’t stop.  Prep him for  
the anoscope and set up a suture tray,” she told the nurse.  “I’ll be there in a minute.”

“What can I say,” Gerald insisted as they rolled him to the treatment area.  “I like it  
rough.  Hear that Keller?  Any way you want it, big boy.”

Chris slid off the bed, pocketed the quarter, and followed Nathan into the wired-in office  
area.  “I don’t know that guy,” he said emphatically, thumbing over his shoulder.

“Oh, I know.  That’s just Gerald,” Nathan explained.  “Actually he’s in love with your  
b…” she stopped mid-statement as a hand was slapped over her mouth.

“Don’t say it,” Chris whispered dangerously, waiting for her to nod before dropping his  
hand.

“Doc?” a hack asked as he rushed over.

“We’re fine, it’s okay,” Nathan assured him.  The guard looked dubious but went back to  
his post to keep an eye on them from a distance.  “Sorry,” she told Chris when the hack  
was out of earshot.  “I won’t ever say anything.  Come on in.”

“Whoa.  That’s the biggest bunch of posies I ever saw,” Chris muttered in awe as he  
caught sight of the huge bouquet sitting on the doctor’s desk.

“They’re daisies,” Nathan told him with a smile.  “They arrived this afternoon from New  
York.”

“Oh,” Chris replied, instantly catching on to what she wasn’t saying.  He moved to the  
desk to run his fingertips lightly over the petals, a tangible reminder Elliot was out there  
somewhere, alive and well.

“They came special delivery with a package.  Since I don’t wear men’s bikini briefs, I  
have to assume these are for you,” Nathan said with a sparkle in her eye as she pulled out  
a plain brown wrapper from a drawer.

It had already been neatly cut open but in his haste to see the contents Chris ripped the  
paper nearly in half.  “Red, green, and … black,” he took inventory with a huge grin.   
“Yeah.”

The doctor watched his childlike excitement with an indulgent smile before growing  
more serious.  “I think this is for you, too,” she said as she plucked a sprig of small blue  
flowers from the edge of the daisies.  “It’s a forget-me-not.”

Chris hesitated before taking it.  He cautiously sniffed the blossoms then trailed it along  
his cheek before reluctantly handing it back to Doctor Nathan.  “Hang on to it for me?”  
he requested meekly.  “I can’t very well walk around Oz with a fucking flower.  But I  
don’t want anything to happen to it.”

“Sure.  I’ve got an idea.”  Nathan went to a shelf and pulled out an enormous medical  
tome which she put on her desk and opened.  Laying the sprig between two pieces of  
white paper she pressed it in between the pages.  “There.  It’ll keep forever right there  
between neurophysin and normocholesterolemia.  Nobody ever uses that volume.  It’ll  
still be here when Oz is just a memory.”

“Thank you,” Chris said.  He reached out to touch the book, memorizing its cover so he  
would be able to recognize it.  “You know, for everything.”

“You’re welcome.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go sew up Gerald.  Again.”

“Why don’t you just sew his ass shut?” Chris suggested, using humor to hide the fact that  
he was feeling a little emotional.

“Shh,” Nathan shushed as she tried not to laugh at the bad joke.  She looked out the wire  
to make sure no one overheard her answer.  “I have to admit I’m leaning toward that  
option.”

“Only one way to make an important decision like that,” Chris replied with a sigh.  He  
dug the quarter out his pocket and flipped it to her as he walked away.

The End

 


End file.
